


The Great Rick-scape

by IntergalacticSpaceGoddess1



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Beth - Freeform, Floshpin, Gen, Jerry - Freeform, Morty - Freeform, Multi, Nukaird, Other, Rick - Freeform, Semontri-49, Summer, Synm - Freeform, The Great Rick-scape, Zetras, prison break - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:33:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8768299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntergalacticSpaceGoddess1/pseuds/IntergalacticSpaceGoddess1
Summary: I've been obsessing about this show and figured it deserved a proper fic. If you're probably sensitive get the fuck over it, I'm not putting up warnings. Just enjoy the ride because we love the show for being fucked up. This is post season two. What are you waiting for? We all need something to occupy our time. Click the link already, criticism is welcome. I don't own any characters but Synm.





	1. Black holes aren't just relative to space.

**Author's Note:**

> I had fun getting over my existential dread by writing this. Enjoy.

Nukaird Sanctuary and Rehabilitation Center.

Deep in the trenches of Semontri-49 laid a particular building of interest. Crisp, sterile, jackets warmly occupied creatures of interest. There were several floors harboring madmen and refugees. Many heels marched in unison to aid those paralyzed by trauma. Beings of any competent species grasped weapons. There were hybrids of beings, all working to harbor in almost reverence for scraps. Overall, there was one large command center. In this room, on this pile of hexagonal furniture was a fully reclined Nukaird in a yoked blob of embedded glory. The body of it sat in the seat like a sea of liquefied stars perfectly poured in a cup; glancing between the cameras and the more interesting interactions of the universe beyond the crumbling ruin of its reality. This creature that retained the responsibility was named Quook. It was glaring at the Intergalactic News that was always on the hour, told by the same pair of cybernetic Nukarid hybrids that anchored for almost twenty years. 

“In the sector 85 of the super moon Floshpin, remnants of the war are just now being cleared for civilian and export passage…still attempting to identify the bodies… This treaty with the Zetras will be in effect until...” 

The dimming light seemed to reflect off of the lenses of it’s eyes as the screen revealed its reports. “Yo, Synm, got another job...and where are you going?” A round of clicks echoed in the dimly lit hall, a velvet skinned creature appeared from the shadows. “Just for a stretch with a particular dignitary, you should come with me Quook. I might need some clearance.” Synm offered to the other Nukaird with a wink, but it was scoffed to rejection. “Synm, you don't need me. After that fifty-two hour stakeout, you’re lucky I’m coherent enough to- Holy shit.” The Nukaird known as Quook gave pause when the image of a human mugshot popped up on screen. Quook's unreasonably baritone voice was at a loss. 

“Isn't that fool-” 

Synm studied the features cautiously. Between the spiked and faded blue bed hair; existentially nihilistic deadpan gaze, and the shameless loss of motor skill in keeping his saliva on his chin instead of in his mouth, but his most prominent feature...his unkempt uni-brow. Synm widely grinned with its gills rumbling. “Who else would it be?” 

“Breaking News. The arms dealing terrorist well known as Rick Sanchez has been sentenced to several lifetimes in prison without the possibility of parole. The Galactic Federation has taken a personal stake in this criminal's capture due to his elusiveness for so long. His charges consist of reckless endangerment, fraud, genocide, bio terrorism, looting…”

As the cyborg continued to rattle off Rick's offenses; Synm thinned its eyes and a low rumbling resembling a crocodile in aggression or heat resounded from its gills that fluttered on its neck. “Dammit Rick, why did you choose now to get arrested?” Quook wasn’t too sure how to reassure its companion. “A paradox is never convenient. Still need me to jazz that mission with you?” The communicator implant embedded in Synm’s eye flashed as it blinked the dossier from its vision. “That won’t be possible with this change in plan. I have to prep some concentrated dark matter for the extensive launch. I'd let you tag along, but what's left your bone structure would collapse under the pressure.” Quook hissed as much as a distorted blob could allow. “Don't rub it in bitch, I could drive and coordinate circles around your lifespan.” If Quook had fingers it’d snap them. The cyborg was still reading his charges. “Yeah, but who won first place in the B.L.A.R.G. racing?” They both stared at the extensive list and sighed in unison. 

“It was a tie.” Quook continued flatly. “How are you going to find him anyway? There’s about nine maximum security prisons in their jurisdiction, and you can’t bail that cat out.” Quook morphed his face while analyzing the situation.. “You only have two options baby, blackmail or breaking him out… Which is not only insane, but puts you at risk. The Enrapture is upon us, you can’t possibly get a reign on him long enough to conduct a...” Quook stopped speaking after seeing the all-too-familiar look of determination was ingrained in Synm’s eyes. “Don’t remind me. There's only one way to revolutionize freedom, and it starts with him.” A wave of nonchalance went through what would be Quook’s shoulders. 

“Don’t get killed baby-cakes, I actually like you. I'll warn ya, don't play in that muck for too long. It'll ruin your boots.” Quook glared at Synm. Synm grew out the strands of her cells to form silvery-brown pastel hair as it began to twist itself into two long Ghana braids that ended at it’s tailbone. Then changed its skin from velvet to a shade of a medium mahogany. Synm began to slowly morph its body to a more human physiology. “It will always be in his interest to keep me alive; and I'll get my boots as dirty as I want.” Synm grinned and sashayed to its ship. Quook shook his gelatinous form. “Your boots, not mine baby.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I added the inflections for emphasis. Deal with it.

The Smiths residence.

 

They were all having dinner with metallic utensils clanking emptily against the plates. This was as much of a facade of peace as a temporary cease fire. “It’s been months, and Rick hasn’t left any type of protocol on what to do if he gets arrested. Can we at least visit him?” Summer looked at Morty searching for some type of resolution. “We were just cleared from their monthly inspections. The last thing anyone needs to be doing under the eyes of the Federation is going off planet!” Jerry reminded everyone with too much exuberance. “Not unless you narc on us.” Summer shot back with her infamous eye roll. “C'mon, it's not normal being this far from people you love, look at mom and Morty!”

Morty’s face was expressionless and burdened with silence. The initial hope of seeing his grandfather seemed to dim after the first few days. His BMI hit another spurt giving him a more lean, and heightened frame. A more toned outline would've fleshed out his mass; if he hadn't completely passed the threshold of depression when even basic function becomes a challenge. Jerry began his feeble attempt at a counter-argument.

“It's not too bad without him, we don't even have to worry about your health and the house never has stood together for so long… Boring is good, and even-”

“I-Irrelevant. All of this can be re-replaced, *hic* not my father. Dickless bastards.” Beth was downing her eighth glass of wine while cursing the federation, she didn’t even touch her food. Jerry was in this state of bliss from the recent absence of primordial chaos. Oblivious to the fraction in a blind hope for a truly happy family. “Well, I for one think we’re better adjusted-” Beth flung the rest of her wine in his face and snatched the rest of the bottle in a wobbled, slurry, stance. 

“Not. A-nother. Wo-OUR-d. I shouldn’t have p-plushed to go t-t-o the sh-tupid wedding. Ma-Marriage ish always a misTAKE. I-I pushed him away again. My fau-llllt.” As Beth belted and vomited out the last word, Jerry sat with a mouth agape. A sigh came from Summer and Morty, unfazed from the ejection of bodily fluids with belligerence on a daily basis thanks to Rick's level of substance abuse. 

Jerry’s anger stirred as he watched his wife wipe off her mouth and attempt to drink from the bottle again. Ignoring the fact that some did land on his pants, it just didn’t make sense for them to not be over Rick. “I have HAD it. Why are you killing yourself over a self-serving, albeit genius, alcoholic intergalactic terrorist?” Morty slammed his fists into the dinner table while pushing out his chair. The anxiety and stifled repression finally got the best of him.

“H-h-he would’ve found a way to s-set you free. N-no matter how bad it got, he was there. T-That’s the difference, for Christs sake, in another dimension he m-made a daycare catered t-to you! He may be a-a lot of things, but in the end Rick sacrificed his livelihood. One o-of the greatest minds of time i-i-is... Don't y-y-you fucking get it!?” 

Morty for the first time spoke in weeks. He sulked enough, it was time to act. It was one thing to disappoint Rick; but Jerry honestly had no situational awareness and this brought a particular type of shame to Morty. A shock took the entire family as Beth even put the bottle of wine down. He was already heading to Rick’s garage before anyone could think of a proper response; the door slammed behind him. Summer scooted out and followed after him. 

“What’s the plan? We don’t have the ship so...”

Morty was digging through the boxes carefully, as if he knew he was going to return and yell at him for rummaging in the first place. “I-I don’t know, b-but we can at least find s-someone who does.” Summer snapped her fingers as Morty found an address book. 

“I’ve got it.” They sprang in unison.

“We c-can call some of these numbers... but I-I think your idea is better.” Morty looked at the Meeseeks box Summer found. “Now we have to be very specific otherwise more people will be put in danger than necessary...” They remembered how drastic state the blue creatures reached when Jerry’s wish couldn’t be fulfilled. “F-For Grandpa Rick.” Summer repeated in agreement as they both slammed on the button of the box.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I merged two chapters together to cut down on posting time.

Taodorma model-7208.

Synm ruffled the clothes as it tried to get acclimated to the humanoid body again. The Nukaird was rifling through magazines riddled with cosmetic and anatomical structures. It began morphing the best looking parts to it’s liking. The more it stared into the mirror, soft and sharp facial features began to form. The look of androgyny as the humans called it seemed appropriate. Maybe it was the biological clock ticking as it crossed it’s legs, and being referred to he or she is something to acclimate to again. If the time ever approached, consent needed to be swift. Being somewhere in the middle of an identity crisis wasn't completely ironic. The emotionless ride of its life was its security blanket and yet robbed Synm of its individuality. 

Synm dropped the mirrored screen upon a startling realization.

Synm knew where Rick was being locked away; even the void of space couldn’t hide from the trace of its hormones. They would need a portal gun or find an authoritative figure that could absolve Rick. Then convincing him to join the cause. Synm slammed its head on the console of the ship. The melodies of the galactic vocaloid opera singer Wolmta Doxt sprang from the internal speakers. The melodies leaked out in almost impossibly high pitches, carrying the instruments by her lead. 

“Mauch-vi-ya!” Synm cursed before a tingle in its newly developed cornea drew away its frustration. First it turned down the celestial tunes; blinked three times, and cleared it’s throat. 

“Speak.” 

“I’m Mister Meeseeks! Listen to ME! Rick Sanchez grand kids are looking for someone who has a ship to travel for a VIS-iiit. Can you accommodate these two with a verbal agreement of DISCRETION?!” The shrill voice made Synm cringe and recoil in annoyance. 

“I must be predestined for misery.”

The Meesesks also went to clarify with a stern tone. “I also need to know that you won't beTRAY Rick after the encounter unless justified. Can you COMPLY?” The inflection of its voice nearly caused a negative feedback. It made the reflexive prehistoric rumbling in Synm’s gills increase while fantasizing of specifically shredding this Meesesks voice box in half.

“Just send me the coordinates before I have a fucking aneurysm.” 

“Caaaan DO!” 

After the last set of numbers was given, the Meesesks vanished from existence. The call also dropped. The switches clicked as it punched in the longitude and degrees. “I better get a goddamn day named after me for doing this.” Synm eased the core into drive, partially wishing it brought Quook along for the ride. 

Summer dove for her phone as the Meesesks vanished. 

She showed Morty the numbers and letters as they went to open the garage door. They matched the name to the corresponding contact sequence. Summer jumped as her phone vibrated. “It's name is Synm, and we're going to have to grab a few materials; it'll be in orbit in a day.” Morty scratched the back of his head. “W-we should get started.” 

The Smith kids found almost all the components except for one. 

“Shouldn't be too big a deal, we can find it tomorrow. Look at everything with fresh eyes.” Summer went to leave the garage for bed and Morty scratched her wrist while trying to grab it. “What the hell?” Morty pointed at the orange lighting in the sky. Summers phone vibrated again.

A ship began to take form while landing. As soon as the alien glided off the ship, a small pin fell off its skin tight white gold bodysuit.

“That's... Synm..”

This alien was a deep shape of mahogany with piercing cuttlefish shaped opal eyes, full lips and a buttoned nose. It carried one healthy medium breast that sat in the middle of its chest cavity for confidence and smuggling more than anything else. The more notable features were the gills neatly placed on it’s neck and the width of the hips. The gait of the creature's vogue matched the grace of a giraffe with an amazing definition of muscular ferocity.

Synm initiated introductions.

“Morty, Summer... you're entirely more human than expected…Then again this is probably the most predictable thing he's done.” Even its voice bellowed with a mix of regality and a heavy animistic undertone. It was a hypnotic watching its fingers point in a circular motion. Unsure of what this creature implied, they lead Synm to Rick's homemade workbench. “Oh...how, quaint.” Synm inhaled deeply and scrutinized the parts. “W-wh-wh-what’s wrong?” Morty cut in his anxiety driven objection.

Synm examined a stolen Claxar sample under a microscope as a new form of pain came from the bones in its torso. 

“Rick was always one for...used items.” A fearsome chuckle eluded from its lips. Morty decided to not follow up the response with his question in fear of the answer itself. Summer cringed as she thought this was a particular barb at Unity. “Need anything else? Cuz I’m ready to hit the sack.” Summer sunk her hands into her hips. Synm tapped it's chin as the jabbing pain set in.

“Kalaxian Fractals or crystals… As long as it’s in the solid form it’ll do.” 

Morty grimaced, the last time Rick used any was during their house party. He also remembered throwing them out, but Rick always knew how to get his hands on illegal items. “His stash is there, y-y-you’ll have to crack the safe.” Summer rolled her eyes as the emotional exhaustion set in. "Are you sure that's the best idea right now?" Synm was absorbed in Rick’s notes while constructing the necessary devices. "Don't insult me. I'm biologically unable to gain intoxicating effects from ingest-" It cringed while a pair of hands formed right under her existing arms. “Go rest, you’re not going to like the next few steps in the morning.” The pain made Synm hunch over the table, luckily it had high tolerance due to decades of training. As the Smiths left the garage their father could be overheard scolding them. “The LAST thing we need is another...Whose spaceship is parked in MY driveway?!” Synm's skin began to become sticky as the auxiliary set of arms emerged in a forceful tear.

“It’s mine; and keep it down, can't think with this racket. Dalai, fetch the door...right.” Synm seethed in irritation with physical suffering. It no longer had servants at beck and call.

“What?” Jerry gawked with a nearly unhinged jaw. Synm held him at gunpoint with one arm and the other three assembling the secondary weapon. It didn't bother to even look at Jerry as the pain sharpened in its rib cage.

“The sound of you attempting to comprehend what I am is deafening. I don't have time for you to entertain me; dismiss yourself from my presence.” As Jerry tried to protest, Synm took the safety off the pistol.

*Vvvrreeeeeeeeeeeee*

“I NEVER repeat myself.”

Before Synm fired a warning shot Jerry was scraping pavement.

“Pussy.” Synm groaned as rest of the two new arms grew out of its rib cage. A curtain of sweat formed on its brow while glaring at the keypad of the lock. “He could’ve constructed a better safe. Laziness has a price.” Synm stripped off twelve pieces of tape and layered them carefully along the sequence pad. Synm relaxed its fingers and pressed the correct code; a plethora of pages and pieces of gun scrap burst from the locked compartment. It selected specific pieces of scraping from the pile. “After all these years? Interesting.” This seemed to be the only thought that could pass while skimming the lodged schematics and roughly patched blueprints. After inspecting both guns and slamming the safe shut; it headed to the ship to pass out. The pain and exertion to not give into its primal urges to tear Jerry a new one subsided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is almost here. Florida's a bit confusing to this Northerner, it's nearly 80 Fahrenheit and X-Mas decorations are littered about. I assume the "Christmas in July" originated from encountering this peculiar climate. Either way I hope your holidays are bearable.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning after.

“Is THIS where he's residing? Prison seems like a vacation…” Synm's voice was critical if not sharp as her forked tongue. Luckily only Summer was in earshot. “Sorry this abode doesn’t fit your tastes your highness. Who or what the hell are you anyway?” Synm ignored the spirited sarcasm and rummaged the cabinets with a neutral face. “I think the earth word for it is “lost and or hungry” or did you not mean it empirically?” Summer scoffed. “I meant literally.” Synm shook its head, not a single recognizable thing to eat. 

“Concurrently; An ambassador, cytologist, architect, cryptanalysist, I dabble in counterintelligence, and advanced combat medical…” Synm paused and finally amassed what Summer's look of bewilderment inquired. “You meant as a species. We are neither male or female. The Nukarid's are a not so much of a race anymore but the most extreme selection of hybrids that finds particular species to mate with permanently to keep a record of all evolutionary advantages. Then we eventually take them to the next step in the process, elevating the genetic coding to become more...anyway, anyway.” Synm waved it off with both of it’s left hands. “There’s a mass of technicalities that are placed in our mating rituals that impose an even greater threat to our own kind. So most of my “people” are nearly exiled in these, I guess the closest earth term is...bunkers?” 

A bewilderment seemed to sweep on Summer’s face from the growth of the two new arms. “So, like genetic anthropology?” 

Synm’s gills rumbled out the frustration of the brain power it took the adolescent to only understand the first half of the explanation. 

“Yeah, except theoretically we’re fucking the bones and we’re not basing it off of half baked terms. The word you were looking for is Archaeogenetics. Keep researching and studying instead of texting those neanderthals. If you’re lucky, they’ll die off before you find your meaning in life; or find someone intelligent enough to not kill you over your remedial comprehension.” Summer seemed more mortified than curious. “I-If I don’t?” Synm thinned its eyes and a certain sinister outline added to its tone. “They’ll get you pregnant. I’m two thousand years young, and I’m still making breakthroughs. There are eons worth of data undiscovered, keep your options unlimited.” Synm turned on its heel and started to head for it’s spacecraft. “Do yourself a favor and get a hysterectomy, family life is a personal hell to avoid in your minuscule lifespan. Ask your mother.” Summer gritted her teeth, something about this being seemed to get under her skin. 

“W-w-here are we going?” Morty stumbled into the kitchen counter top. Summer shrugged her shoulders and pulled him behind her. “I guess we just follow her…it?” 

“You can address me as a female if you’re too lazy to think out the ego driven box of your own species.” Synm hissed bitterly. Jerry came down the stairs in a tussle. “Now I am putting my foot down, no more crazy adventures!” Synm’s gills on its throat rumbled in agitation. Jerry gave a defeated sigh. “You’re grounded when you come back.” 

Synm's forked tongue tasted the air in indifference. “Your life is a joke and the only punch line is suffering.” 

It slammed the door and the surrounding frame shuttered with chips of wood flew from the seams.

Jerry sunk to his knees in whimpers.

 

Taodorma model-7208.

 

“Oh g-geez, did you h-have to beat him while he was d-down?! Oh man, oh man!” Morty was already dreading the ride home. Summer rolled her eyes while studying the sterilized white crescent shaped interior of the ship. “Chill out spazoid. When Grandpa Rick gets back mom won't let him ground us. If she's happy, he's happy.”

“Relatively speaking. Now buckle up.” Synm injected with a small grit of relief from not having to oversimplify this too. They both ignored Synm’s comment; but buckled up after it set out a course, and pressed its hand on a cell scanner. The ship garbled and rattled to a more smoother control. “The compressor’s still acting up. Scroopy bastard ripped me off.” Synm mumbled more to itself. As the flyer significantly slowed, a hidden wall unfolded with a set of beakers and even stranger floating contraptions.

They both swiveled around in awe, as the table folded out with an almost scenic mist. 

A set of pristine test tubes, kaleidoscopic magnifiers, magnetic petri dishes, and stoppers with foreign oddities. Summer pointed to the floating sphere and octagonal beakers. “Did you turn off-” Synm started pouring and mixing concoctions without looking back. “No, this is the only table in the galaxy with its own stable gravitational field. The tools on this table alone would be twenty six times your organs worth. I’ve tailored every single detail in this vessel to my ease of access... Why would I want either of you floating around contaminating my shuttle?” Summer scowled then crossed her arms and Morty twiddled his thumbs. “R-Rick sometimes needs h-his crawlspace, d-don’t take it personal.” Synm shrugged and scribbled down specific measurements. Another moment of realization dawned on Synm as it groaned. 

“We’re going to have to go to the Council of Dicks.” 

Summer cocked her head. “Uh...Freudian slip?” Synm shook its head lethargically. “Nope. Rick's safe was easy to crack, there just wasn’t anything useful. I’m actually going to need his-other-selves help to break him out. Pworshta vi diompe.” Morty leaned forward in the plush seating, assuming Synm cursed. “Why d-do you want to help Grandpa Rick and-and what do you know about the council?” Summer chimed in while slouching. “Yeah, you seem well off, what can he do that you can’t?”

Synm’s gills rumbled as it cracked open a mega seed while crushing it to a paste.

“If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. I need a proper figurehead. Right now my kin are being enslaved, poached, or exiled. If they try to leave off world, poof!” Only two of Synm’s hands freed itself for the gestured explosion. “The Zetras starved us to the point of cannibalization. Extracted us for our secretion every leap year until the glands asphyxiate and have been restricted from galactic exploration.” Synm pointed specifically between the ruffles of its gills. “The Zetras have appointed me and a select few Nukairds as ambassadors and hierarchical positions to rule sectors of our planet. We don’t exactly have power as much of an immunity for enforcing subjugation.” Summer and Morty had a stomach churning look of disgust and confusion.

“How does Rick fit into all of this?”

“Essentially as bait. As primitive as Earth is, finding Rick should’ve been easier. I’m going to have him teleport to my home world with a trail to follow. The Federation of fascists will have no choice due to their recent actions in his willing capture. It would ultimately embarrass them if Rick became a fugitive again, he however can’t know about this due to his...nature.” Synm rubbed the back of its neck. “If this works I can use this as evidence to convict the Zetras and free Rick in the same trial...but...” Morty and Summer were still overwhelmed with glazing eyes. Synm’s gills rumbled again in dissatisfaction from the chemical reaction of the testing tube. 

“Oh geez! B-but?” Morty managed to force out.

“Oh good, you’re still listening. He has to make it look like the Zetras brutalized and controlled him. Then his charges would be dropped. Rick’s an excellent liar, but my concern is the aftermath...” 

“So how are we going to break him out?” Summer was texting rapidly mid question. Synm sighed and dug through a hidden compartment of its table. The plasma glowed an eerie greenish grey from a syringe and Synm tapped its arms a few times and injected itself. 

“By saying please.”


	5. Chapter 5

The docking hangar of The Citadel of Ricks

As they entered the gravitational pull the Taodorma model-7208 into a violent turbulence. 

“Huh?! How long have we been flying?” Summer jolted out her sleep, rubbing the gunk from the corners of her drooping lids. “Twelve hours. Listen, I’m going to need you to trust and follow my lead. Don’t say or do anything without my instruction, and for the love of the archaic ones don’t get lost. I can't keep track of you and refuse to take any supervised responsibility.” Synm loosely instructed while plucking and swirling a test tube. Morty turned his attention from the hologram projecting the new episode of Ball Fondlers as the sound muted itself. 

“Identify yo-OUR-self and purpose.” A familiarly despondent voice asserted through the vessel.

“Not the jackass that’s placing too much of an imbalance on the G-Force magnetizer making tidal forces that will eventually collapse into itself causing a black hole and worse off damaging MY babies. I’m not telling you how to do your only job; but I’m pretty sure you can tell who I am by now. If not, you should probably put down whatever flask you’re slurping from. I’ll go slow so you don’t have to exert any extra brain cells. Contact C.1.3.7.4.4.6.2, have Rick Prime or Zeta Alpha Rick greet me. I’m getting impatient from this meaningless interaction.” Synm sneered as Morty and Summer became stupefied and could only mouth the word “babies?”.

There was a gap of interference between the multiple echoes of overlapping Ricks. “I don’t give a shit who you thi-IN-k you A-rgh, you-you’re not getting in. Ch-Ch-Check this broad out…” Another Rick with a higher pitch seemed to be enthralled. “She is kinda of…n-n-now that you mention...” Synm crossed both sets of its arms as the mix of belching and static became indistinguishable. “Ph-AS-ers are already locked to rock biyatch!” Rick mocked reflexively as Synm pulled up a auxiliary holographic screen and typed rapidly. Morty was sweating profusely as Summer was nearly tearing her hair out. ”Ignoramus.” Synm pushed the beakers to the side while dragging up the primary screen momentarily, and began to giggle. 

A spit take was overhead as the trained guns powered down.

“H-H-HOW the fuck did she - oh. Shit. The main oxygen supply is depleting!?! Sir I - he's - she's -” A third transmission came in. “Ignore that motherfucker, he’ll be-be fired out an airlock or reprimanded anyway you would see fit. I don’t really re-remember seeing your face. So you’re either the interior decorator, which no, because you cracked our binary coding under a minute. Demands haven’t been declared since we’re worthless as dead hostages; s-so you must be Synm from Semontri-49, head architect of the Citadel and the cleaner model design of the Taodorma series.” Synm yawned and looked at its growing fingernails while resetting their entire system. “Spare me the indignation caused by your patronizing lack of discipline in your line of subordination. You just lost a bet.” 

A flurry of curses and grumbles stretched over the ship as access to dock was granted.

 

Citadel of Ricks - Lower Laboratory. 

 

Synm in strides naturally, counting the Flurbos with Morty and Summer in tow. “H-Hey, why did you take the Meeseeks box?” Synm hissed at Morty to keep his voice down. “I’m going to need one of you to drive Rick’s ship from the impound. Morty I assume, would be the better driver in this case? Figure it out.” They exchanged glances as Zeta Alpha Rick rambled listlessly about their upcoming projects and events. “I actually liked the reports you analyzed on the Acquisition of the Llountis quadrant over the Oyliks. The skating bar wasn't a bad idea either, I-I'm glad you made me push for it. We have the annual Binge Fest still-” Synm placed two fingers over Z.A.R’s lips. “This isn’t a social call. This is about the Zetras, I need C-137 released from captivity. Notify the Warden for my clearance.” Zeta Alpha Rick gripped Synm’s wrist. “I-It’d have to be cleared by the rest of the council, plus we H-AGT-E him.” As he started to walk away, Synm’s gills began to rumble. “After your gatekeeper's stunt of ineffectual grandstanding; your emotions garner as much worth as a microorganism. Take me to the council, and I want the gatekeeper Rick to deal with personally. I also need Kalaxian Fractals, I know one of you is holding.”

Z.A.R. looked around and let Synm’s finger slip into his mouth hungrily. Synm swirled the digit around his tongue and retracted its hand into a fist, and shoved him away. “Today, if you’re done sulking.” Zeta Alpha Rick’s paused as the suction from his lips relaxed making a resounding ‘pop’. He blankly headed for the corner of the lab and used his wristwatch to schedule a meeting.

Synm eyed then snatched a few motherboards and wires off the tables.

“W-W-What the hell was that?” Morty rattled as Synm inconspicuously played with her braids when a Robotic Rick zoomed in on its hands. “I’m pretty sure you know what Kalaxian shards are, unless you’re wondering how the more “updated” Rick’s is going to register me as one of their bounty hunters to give me access to the Warden?” The Robotic Rick simply turned his back. Morty managed to stammer out. “You k-k-know that’s not what I meant!” 

“Barf. Exactly how acquainted are you with Rick?” Summer crossed her arms.

“Which one? I told you both to keep quiet, save your questions for the end.” Synm smirked ominously while continuing its stride out the lab.


	6. Chapter 6

Citadel of Rick’s - Council Den

There would be no point in appealing to any of the Rick’s better nature. It never existed.

“F-Fine.Take the crystals, and the failed gatekeeper. The files on the Warden will be sent to you directly. There’s still no way in ANY universe we’d put this panel and the recipients at risk to save C-137.” Quantum Rick upturned his nose with his furrowed uni brow. Each of their gazes reflected from their golden thrones. Synm crossed both sets of its arms and widened its stance. “Isn’t the whole point of this council to prevent this exact thing from happening?” Ricktiminus Sancheziminius scowled while massaging his temple. “H-He isn’t even a part of this commission! Invading Floshpin is not only a waste of time and resources, destroying it seems like an easier solution. What possible benefit could we gain from assisting that miserable c-UN-t?” As the last word was belched, the other Rick's murmured among themselves. 

Synm hissed to silence the room.

“You know that all biology on Semontri-49 has to thrive under these extreme conditions. Are all you Rick’s imbeciles when it comes to universal gravitation and mechanics? I wouldn’t even come here if I didn’t have something worth your while. As we all know in a few weeks this leap year will commence the Enrapture upon my people. The Nukarid’s genetic code reverts from asexual to the baser function of reproduction; our hormones from the four years of repression floods our senses. Making us fleetingly irrational, homicidal and…” Synm paused while glancing at Summer and Morty; the less they knew the better. “...your favorite type of Party animal. If you wanted, the council could have the Binge Fest there with endless possibilities once we’re free. You'd also have the exclusivity of studying us up close in our nature, each of you have the chance to be immortalized.” Alpha Zeta Rick had an concentrated look while unconsciously rubbing his lower lip. “Why do you need C-137 specifically? If the council were to act, y-you-you’d would have no use of him.” Synm’s gills bellowed with her answer. 

“If and when the Federation arrives, you’ll need a scapegoat. We also have unfinished business.” Synm thinned its opal eyes, baring its teeth. 

“WHAT?!” Morty and Summer yelped in unison. “Y-You said you’d help us and Grandpa Rick!” Morty gripped one of Synm’s arms and Summer threw a right hook in chagrin. “I knew we couldn’t trust this bitch!” This was nearly a fatal mistake. 

Synm snarled and reflexively caught Summers right hook; furiously backhanding them both with its two free hands. The force knocked them to the ground in disorientation. The Council flinched as the contact of the simultaneous slaps echoed through the room. “Let. Me. Be. Clear. Taking down Zetras is the ONLY thing that holds precedence, I will destroy any and all opposition." All four of Synm's hands clenched into fists while hovering over them. "None will hinder this overdue revolution! Accept your worthlessness as pawns and follow me.” Synm turned on its heel, storming to the ship and didn’t look back. Synm snapped its fingers and pointed at the Rick now in cuffs to follow Synm from his earlier mistake. 

“I'll be leaving with or without your heads up your collective asses.” 

 

Taodorma model-7208

 

The Nukarid was strapping and binding the gate keeping Rick to the opposite side of the lab table in the ship. It almost seemed along the lines of a fetished fancy, but a layered line of laser wrapped around each of the cuffs from his wrists, neck, and legs in a forced upright position. Synm performed an extensive frisk and cavity search as the ship scanned everyone. “Don’t e-even-bother, I’d rather be marooned on Weylon 7 than cluster fucked by you Synm. OH, and laying your hands on my grand kids grants me permission to pound your ass no matter which dimension!” Synm blinked as the spit landed on its face. As it wiped off the sticky substance, Synm dislocated Gatekeeper Rick’s collar bone. “Arrgh, you warmongering BITCH!” A sharp groan of pain ejected from this Rick with a twisted smile.

“W-W-Why do you have t-this on your ship? What a-ar-are you doing to him!” Morty sputtered.

“We all like to have nice things don’t we? It’s more or less my brig slash subject table. It cost me...well not me specifically.. a fuck ton of credits; and this isn’t our Rick. He’s trying to garner favor in hopes that you’ll attempt mutiny in a shitty, fraudulent attempt in slapstick sympathy! Little does he know I got what I needed. I could jettison you all into the vacuums of space; and clone a more competent copy of each of you without a twinge of consciousness! I’m two thousand goddamn years old, what do you think I haven’t seen?” Synm’s facial structure sharpened and it’s gills rumbled intensively in predation.

“A Blaysfot a-nurrp-d Viopnit’s in their final stages.” Gatekeeper Rick suggested emptily. 

“No one wants to see that. Does your species always relate everything to sex?” Synm scowled in unamusement while dragging a holographic screen in front of its face as the ship began its launch.

“It-It’s pretty much, our go-to, y-y-you should try it sometime.” Gatekeeper Rick implied between painful heaves. Summer injected with a scoff of disgust. “If-I-have-to-hear-another-innuendo-I’m- going to-vomit.” Morty glanced at Summer in confirmation. “Our Rick?” Synm sighed and mumbled under its breath. “The one that belongs to OUR universe. I know what you’re trying to do; but trust me, you legitimately don’t want to know. I was his mentor for a time and he was mine...or several if you're counting the central finite curve...” Synm trailed off while typing on the screen rapidly. “So were you two…” Synm furrowed its brow specifically at Summer’s struggling thought. “As brilliant as your grandfather is, dating him successfully is improbable. It’s more or less my fault, I’m-” 

Gatekeeper Rick spewed from the sharpening pain in his collarbone. “I-It’s because you-you-you’re an impossible to please, unfeeling-rollin'-bitch-on-wheels. Y-Yeah they to-told, said every Synm encountered is treated like an omen, and, and, and the Council only kisses your ass because you’re the quickest shortcut to the next stage of human evolution or extinction. Y-Ye-You’re nothing m-ourgh-e than a walking catalyst, t-t-he second you’d let your guards down they-they-they’d strap you to a table, open and extract what I can only assume is your space equivalent of ovaries and sperm. Then they’d sell those hypothetical eggs and loads on-on the black fucking market!” 

Synm mirthlessly cackled as Morty and Summer became slack-jawed in horror. 

“Goddamn I missed your arc typed antics. Too bad your stupidity is only mildly amusing, why else would I offer the Binge Fest on my home world? That entire "regime" is domesticated to point of compliance that the notion of aiding another version of themselves seems dubious! The staggering lack of conviction is repulsive." Synm rolled its neck, relaxing the intensity in its shoulders. "The fact is that out of all the Rick’s, not a single one could keep me around long enough to consider reproduction.” Synm’s forked tongue lashed against her lips. “No matter how intelligent, creative or ruthless you become; I’d still have a better chance rolling a random twenty sided die in the gene pool or diving in some glory hole for something better in the remote line of your species! I’m not some incubus or succubus waiting for my next victim. Breaking News: You’re just not good enough.” Synm flipped one of its braids behind the back with a coiling of the neck. Recovering from the slight imbalance of equilibrium; Summer and Morty remained silent. 

Gatekeeper Rick bucked his legs against the binds intensively as Synm. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Get over yourself.” Synm hissed more at the schematics on the screen than G.K.Rick. 

“Make me.” Gatekeeper lowered his eyes to his half lidded gaze as Synm’s words sank in. 

Synm scanned his body, it elected to ignore him with a distended yawn. “It wouldn’t be fun. Morty, Summer, who's going to the impound?” 

They both looked and pointed at Summer. “All I have to is grab the hovercraft and show up to the prison...Right?” Morty’s eyes frantically felt a weight on the back of his neck as Synm cocked its head to eye them both. “I also need you to not fuck this up. Think you can manage?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This particular chapter didn't require much effort. It was however, a bit more of an expedition to write a more ruthless side to appeal to all of us. I think we need to realize without adaption we would never be good enough to keep in any long term relationship. It pains me dearly to have to unravel this particular relationship. 
> 
> Drop some Kudos, and a comment if it resonates - or don't. Free will and all that.


	7. Undisclosed Purchase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment this entire fic was surrounded by. We've got a bit to go still, the current chapter (I'm working on right now is about 2-3 reads ahead?) anyway, it's a bit difficult to pop out. Keeping a line of continuity is about twenty times harder than I remember. I was glaring at the pier at work wondering if I should just abandon this project and edit my Fallout NV fic that's literally rotting away in my Drive. 
> 
> Then I immediately thought; "Fuuuuck that, I'm procrastinating and the story is fleshing out well, don't punish the readers!" Looking at old work is going to propel me back into a state of dread... Which I don't need further encouragement of. This is probably the fastest I've produced and bravely posted without paralyzing self doubt or obsessive editing. (I have YEARS of unfinished writing projects and game/show related fics. I wrote until I was comfortable with my process and understood it. My problem is I treat them all like novellas/epics with a minimal time of inspiration. It has to be big and crazy and each character has a backstory and meaning to exist and die)  
> So I do hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Maybe I'll post an edited Fallout fic if I'm bored or you guys demandz it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed to Rich Text because I'm lazy and need to add emphasis.  
> Which gave me more work of separating paragraphs. Yeah, I didn't want to do it either.  
> Wait, is there even a big difference?  
> Fuck it. I'm tired.  
> I'm going to need an assistant to cover the work I don't want to do.  
> Like, all of it.  
> Fingers crossed that I don't fuck up the editing on four hours of sleep since yesterday.

Galactic Federation Maximum Security Prison #8  
  
_**Status Recognized; Greetings Marshal Meza, direct your attention and the captive to the secondary command base.** _  
  
Synm strolled through the metal detector disguised in the bounty hunter Federation uniform and hooked Morty and Summer up to a comm device in confidence. They were granted classified clearance thanks to the alternate Rick’s falsifying information. “All you have to do is press this button when I tell you. If you don’t know what to do, the list I provided is an excellent guide.” Synm performed a systems check with Morty first and sent Summer on her way with two Meeseeks with extremely cautious instruction. Morty remained in the ship heavily guarded.  
  
“Walk, I don’t need the Gromflomites becoming aroused by suspicion.” Synm commanded effortlessly while tugging on his restraints. A set of unintelligible muffled grumbles ejected from G.K. Rick.  
  
The Gatekeeper Rick was being pushed in front of Synm while cuffed, blinded and gagged.  
  
“A bit of overkill, don’t you think Marshal?” One particularly curious oversized insect buzzed then pointed at the peculiar binding Synm chose. Paying no mind to the backhanded compliment, Synm peeked its tongue to taste the air. “Just collecting a bounty boys; show me the Warden.” Synm carried an assertive accent and extended its stance in pride. Inherently the design of the clothing it chose seemed to give Synm a particular charge of energy. Synm bore a sleek black uniform with gold trimmings with a set of war epaulets resting on its shoulders. The stamping of ankle high boots echoed against the brazen whistles and fury of forcibly abstained curses. A switch of a few lefts, rights, with elevators led them to the room in question. In a whisper Synm leaned over G.K. Rick. “Just do what you do best.” There was a digital sign on the door seemed foreign yet familiar to Synm.  
  
Even the unrecognizable sound of garbled shouts and clicks didn’t even phase Synm while shoving G.K. Rick into the Warden’s office. A protest of muffled profanities could be heard as he attempted to free himself. “Shut the fuck up already.” Synm punched G.K. Rick into unconsciousness and virtually threw his body in the office with only two of its arms.  
  
Synm slammed the door behind them.  
  
“Um...Nice of you to drop by, I assume THIS is our replacement.” The Warden was a large praying Mantis with extensively sharp extremities slowly folding over each other. The Warden was tailored in a surprisingly neat uniform with a glistening paperweight with a name proudly displayed. Synm skimmed the room and became irked from the cliched interaction. “We both know why I’m here Xio. We hate each other and the only thing keeping us from slitting throats is our mutual distaste for larger threatening forces. Give me C-137, you’ll get this one instead...AND when I take down the Zetras you’ll get more than your fill of intergalactic war criminals. Far more valuable than any Sanchez.” Synm purposely avoided giving Mr. Xio the proper title of a "sir" to give a more personal address.  
  
Synm removed the hood from G.K. Rick and gripped his hair. “I suggest you restrain him before wakes up, I also need a favor from you-” The Warden seemed more amused by Synm’s straightforward attitude. “Is that a clone, Synm? And I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who’s supposed to benefit from this interaction…” The Mr. Xio clicked in response. “You will if you could close your pincers. When the coup happens you need to wait until a proper ruler is chosen before infesting the streets, otherwise the Nukarid’s won’t cooperate with your swarming underlings.”  
  
The Warden leaned back in its seat, antennas twitching. “Infesting?”  
  
Synm couldn’t care for being cordial, it began to loosen up its braid while dodging the question. “You do know I’m on a constrained time schedule right?”  
  
“How are you an ambassador?”  
  
“I’m not changing my word choice over a stereotype that has been countlessly proven to be true. Our people have a low tolerance with bullshit in general. The term “Ambassador” is loosely translated to “Negotiator”. What we have to offer is always better than our initial pitch.” Synm crossed its lower set of arms with the higher ones bearing its hips then switching to do air quotes. “You guys sexually cannibalize each other which is probably the only thing we have in common. You’d be aiding in actual intergalactic advancement for once, ignoring my sponsors that got me clearance will also be rewarded. Mutualism across the board at the cost of a few million insurgents. I’m not kissing your ass and doing grunt work Xio, get over it.”  
  
The Warden thinned its lenses. “About your sponsor...it’s probably inconsequential. Two weeks.” Synm bared its teeth errily while a low rumbling in its gills. “Month. C-137 now.”  
  
A rapid set of clicks and growls resounded in the primal response. “I’ll bring you to the prisoner.”  
  
Synm thinned its eyes while scrolling through the files it broke into at the terminal in the office. Trailing behind Mr. Xio’s scuttling legs quietly, Synm analyzed the data and memorized their directions. It seemed a bit too easy, as Synm tasted the air to find that familiar scent. Rick was nearby, and he wasn’t in great shape. A jolt of paranoia charged Synm’s spine and decided to message Morty. Synm took out its phone, gripped the left side of Mr.Xio’s shoulder with an arm wrapped around it and snapped a selfie erratically. “Photobomb!”  
  
“I expected more professionalism -” Mr. Xio clicked and rubbed it’s blood red pupils from the flash. Synm rolled its eyes and sighed while rapidly sending the image. Mr. Xio seemed a bit disoriented and nausea conducted his line of questioning. “D-Do you always document your, ugh…nearest...trashcan.” Synm grinned when the scent of C-137 wafted stronger as it began to direct the Warden into a blind spot from the orbital cameras. “Nunng-W-w-Why?” Synm punctured three specific pressure points that rendered Mr. Xio unconscious. “Insurance, my dear.” It then took out a glass syringe with the plasma from one of its coiled braids. The plunger flushed the greenish grey fluid into the Warden. “When I’m done you won’t even know yourself.”  
  
The only image that Morty could see was a picture of Synm; contorting its face with shut eyes and its forked tongue veering horizontally to the right. He immediately commed Summer and began rapidly typing while warming up the ship in a frenzy. “Oh, no! Oh, geez! Symn m-might have to kill the W-Warden!”  
  
Summer was dumping the countless bottles, wrappers, Blitz and Chips tickets, and condoms from the backseat. “Gross. Tell Synm I have grandpa’s ship - HEY quit it!” The sound of glass shattered sharply collided with the singing Meeseeks that was dragging her into the ship. “Ugh, it even smells the same.” The Meeseeks started the ship. “BUCKLE UP!”  
  
As Summer texted aimlessly, Morty didn’t shut off their line. “W-w-what do you think o-of her-him-it?” Summer put down her phone thoughtfully. “I think she-Synm means well, but… trusting it seems like a mistake.” Morty clammed up, rolling the idea around. “Does it remind you of R-Rick a bit?” Summer nodded and wondered about their grandmother. “Synm did say they were around each other a lot, you eventually reflect the company you keep. Synm’s a lot colder, definitive, and brutal. It seems...alien, even for Ricks standards.” They both rubbed their cheeks and the overall power Synm enforced in the Council Den; it was not to be trifled with. “Do-Do you think Synm w-was always like that..or-or is that what happens to everyone when you get tired and old enough?” Summer frowned, cynicism wasn’t her strong suit. “If you let it. It’s entirely possible. Look at mom and dad, we’re the ones who have to take care of them. We don’t have to be like them.” Summer finally understood what Synm was trying to tell her the entire time. “Maybe… maybe we can do better.” Morty mused quietly. “I-I’d like to think so.”  
  
  
Galactic Federation Maximum Security Prison #8 - Interrogation room #2  
  
  
Rick was languidly reclining in the metallic chair as much as his limbs would comfortably allow. The cuffs on his ankle and hands didn’t offer too much maneuverability while digging into his flesh. The withdrawal from alcohol and megaseed had already taken effect by the months. The sunken lids and bruises were somewhat lacerated face from the fights and laser shavers given by the bug barbers left a five o’clock shadow. This was a personal hell for Rick, being completely devoid of technology, always having to be monitored on a permeated guard. Being told what and when to eat and sleep. Worse of all his lust for exploration and creatures were being stagnated. An officer in uniform had trained sights with it’s back next to the door.  
  
The door whooshed open and a forked tongue stuck between the gap.  
  
The Gromflomite turned to inspect the whips of air, but found itself at a loss of breath. “Shut your eyes C-137!” Synm had an extended grip on its lower sack and ripped the wings off with three arms. Rick slammed his head into the table as the door closed itself. Synm held the phone up with its fourth arm, taking several flashes in a strobelight fashion; and the sounds of retching and pained shrieks bounced off the steel walls. Synm shut off the phone and ground its heel into the head of the Gromflomite, causing a satisfying splat. Synm stripped the uniform off the Gromflomite with it’s ionizing blade and tossed both on the table. Rick lifted his head as the shock faded his expression to the jaded scowl.  
  
“The FUCK you want? If you’re going to kill me, you kinda skipped the line...I-I was going to do it, but I guess I don’t have too now.” He eyed Synm’s uniformed figure carefully with suspicion.  
  
Synm’s gills rumbled and tossed him a clear flask and plucked another syringe. It circled to the other end of the room; gripped Rick by the pale blue fringes of his balding crown and pushed the plunger deep into Rick’s cervical vertebrae. “I hate it when you’re sober and you look like shit. Drink up.” Rick jolted up the flask and swished the contents in his cheeks. “T-t-The fuck did you just p-put i-in...hrmnn.” As the fluids seemed to make his mind race faster than he could get any words out, Synm watched his face relax while tossing the syringe. “Homemade brew, you like?” Rick noticed the handcuff keys on the uniform and scrambled with a rare smile.  
  
“The hell did you do to that guy?”  
  
Synm kissed the phone while gleaming over the process. “I modified this baby to produce a condensed ray of artificial infrasound at twenty four hertz with an infrared laser diode. So not only does this blind and deafen the target, their literal internal organs are at my mercy. Just in case any creature with the biology of a smartass is unaffected by either singular assaults. The only downside is the charging, I converted the power source to also be its own recyclable heat sink. Which in foresight is a bad idea due to inevitable overheating because it’s such a small device; but I usually carry more than one battery.” Rick stopped uncuffing his ankle and adjusted his posture in curiosity. “Wouldn’t it be efficient to just use a photonic resonator?” Synm scoffed in arrogance. “Unlike you I actually have to perform espionage with tact; which means I get to come back and use them for whatever needs I deem fit instead of being judge, jury, and executioner. Which is what landed your ass here in the first place. Now hurry up, unless you plan on taking the chair with you.” Rick peered with a more passive tone, whatever this creature injected him with it was definitely working.  
  
“That’s irresponsible leaving loose ends like that; a-anyone could swipe it and-and use it for their own advantage. I assume your entire life is on that device.” Synm crossed its arms with a raised brow. “I thought you were just fulfilling your hormonally charged savage nature; unless you just don’t know how to show restraint.” Synm shook its head. “You really think I don’t have counter measures for theft? The tech is synchronized to my ocular implant. The phone is print locked to ensure only my use of it. In the event of an attempt the assailant would be doubling over from the fail safe or mutilated if the heat sink overloads causing combustion.”  
  
Rick flicked his tongue as he fought back to stay focused; a hallucination slipped in quietly, making him feel like sandpaper on his skin and metal in his oral cavity. “So tracking wouldn’t be an issue either. How do you remain unaffected from the kinetic reaction? I-I mean, the overall effects can’t be healthy on your system from holding it from the source.” Synm smiled with its finger over its lip. “I take a stabilizing shot that works in tandem with our equilibrium on a cellular level, the formula however...it’s too concentrated for daily use. I’m working on distilling it to a simple pill form now.”  
  
Rick was unable to hide his impressionable smirk, it’s been months...years since he was mentally stimulated in conversation.  
  
“Y-You’re a REAL bastard. You seem vague-vaguely familiar, did I ever bend you over at some point in time? I-I’m pretty sure I would have.” Synm paused and started for the door and looked back at him. “Not sure, things like that tend to slip away. It’s not every four years we get to meet anyway.” Rick was mostly dressed in the Federation uniform and leered. “T-This isn’t a simulation, or d-dream or-or- convoluted ruse to inevitably humiliate m-m-my credibility? W-what do you want!” Synm turned around sharply, and the cells in its hair released two energy weapon from its locks. Then it began to reset and its cells into recognizable braids. “People are put into systems for easy governance. Understanding this takes you a step up toward living the meaning of life, rejecting the banality of evil.”  
  
Rick’s eyes widened as the memories flooded his senses in a whisper. “Synm.”  
  
“As much as I’d like to sit here and talk shop, we kind of have more pressing matters.” Synm headed for the exit while spinning two out of four of its hands that held the guns. Rick was stumbling behind barefoot, rolling the extra length in his sleeves up. “How the hell are we supposed to get passed the-” An echoing pitch of clicks and shutters resounded over an announcement.  
  
**_LOCKDOWN LIFT INITIATED LEVELS 34-72-09-21, COMMENCING CYCLING SEQUENCE J-6-4-7-P-1_**  
  
The reverberation of different creatures shrieked at the partially trained pot shots taken. “Get back in your cells! This is Maro requestin- mmmphrr-” Synm began to sprint and not surprisingly Rick was mere meters behind its leading footsteps. The hallways seemed clear until the marching and firing echoed behind them chaotically.  
  
"RIOT!” Was the only word stuck in a loop in different languages of the prisoners.  
  
They both looked behind them and made a sharp right as a freed Gearhead attempted to corner them. Synm thrusted itself forward into a front aerial cartwheel and landed its legs around the Gearhead’s neck. “Holy shit.” Rick and the assailant muttered before Synm violently squeezed its thighs while snapping its neck; making the glass body shatter into the ground in a single maneuver. Synm turned its phone flash function to strobe light again while hopping over a landing rail. Then a series of turns and several flights of stairs to avoid the reflecting orbital cameras, Synm noticed Rick slowing down and grabbed his arm. Rick cringed and retracted breathlessly, his nerves crawled and burned without relent.  
  
“Don’t...T-Too goddamn soon for contact. How far?”  
  
Synm’s chest cavity rose and fell and scanned the perimeter. “Not by much. Just hang on when I tell you to; and if your bones feel like lead, don't keep it to yourself.” There was a hovercart idly humming in the corner. Rick could hear the marching and screaming closing in as the alarm blared overhead. “I forgot the ionizer blade.” Synm tossed him the secondary weapon. “You had one goddamn job Rick!” Rick’s hands were trembling feverishly as Synm yanked him by the sleeve to the lonely hovercart and drove off. “Y-Yeah, escaping on a glorified scooter with no seating while being f-OURG-cibly drugged against MY will! My liver's been working a-at ten percent, i-i-it’s like starving for six months and then g-OURG-rging on Thanksgiving! You could've killed me, i-is that what you WANT t-to fucking Amy Winehouse me?” Rick reloaded the energy weapon as the traction made the vehicle swerve violently.  
  
Synm gripped the throttle tighter.  
  
“She died from alcoholism, which wouldn’t be off track of your take on cruel optimism RICK!” He felt the wind scraping his flesh. “Don’t analyze me! AND-AND-W-Who taught you how to drive, the ghost of Paul Walker? A blind infant could probably do doughnuts around your ass.” Synm's gills rumbled in response, and used its second pair of arms to wrap around to the point of nearly crushing him. “Here’s an idea. Instead of bitching; why don't you make yourself useful and shoot the airlock console since you couldn't break your OWN way out.” Rick eyed the approaching empty desk as the hover cart sharply turned right and Synm’s arms tightened him in place.  
  
“Whatever.” Rick fired three shots in succession.  
  
The airlock whooshed open and both of them was launched through a trash chute. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I think this was more fun to brainstorm than sticking it to a written format. My idea journal is over 2/3's full and the notes are scattered everywhere. I have separate note pads on my phone and laptop on top of my docs. Seriously, I had to scrap over five different scenarios. Between nearly chain smoking and liquor induced strikes of inspiration I find myself wanting some dank for the holidays. Work is stressing to the point of insomnia. 
> 
> Kudos and Comments.  
> Sate my curiosity with your swimming thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple trust building exercise.

Taodorma model-7208  
  
  
“Is everything ready?” Summer floated over the controls after boarding from Rick’s primary vehicle. Morty slapped her hands away, too ridden by anxiety to enjoy the zero G's to stabilize it's core temperature. “Y-Yeah. We gotta strap in. Synm said the ship’ll know when they're close enough. H-How much charge does his portal gun have?” Summer stared at the gun in dubiety. “I don’t know, and the Meeseeks didn’t vanish yet. Synm won’t tell us anything, and I’m worried about grandpa.” Morty rubbed his nape as his nerves got the better of him. “Synm doesn’t seem like the type to make big mistakes. I-I think we s-should hold out unless we get ee-e-pursued.”  
  
  
**_Thrusters Engaged, Preparing For Concentrated Launch In Fifteen Seconds. Keep All Appendages Confined._ **  
  
  
They both sat in their designated seats and buckled up as the ship pronounced a proximity warning. The crescent Taodorma model-7208 began to shift and creak while tilting into a ninety degree angle and dropped oxygen masks. The seats extended in the front; making the drivers and passenger chairs connected. Summer and Morty clung onto their chairs in anxiety and reached for the air supply.  
  
  
_**Ten Seconds.**  
_  
  
The doors slid violently as the suction of space dropped two bodies in the landing pit of the cushioned seats. The doors shut and the ship returns to it’s original horizontal angle. Everyone took a deep breath and Synm was already shoving an unconscious Rick off of its legs to strap him in. “We’re not done just yet.” Synm punched in the coordinates as it applied the oxygen masks to both of their faces. Summer and Morty exclaimed in muffled unison.  
  
“RICK!”     
  
  
**_3… 2...1 Portal Drive Engaged, Commencing Jump. All Systems Nominal._ ** ****_  
_ ****  
  
The ship shot a portal into the vacuum and launched itself. ****_  
_  
  
  
The Smith Residence.  
  
  
  
Beth dropped her keys with a sigh in the seemingly empty house. The lights in the living room suddenly clicked on and Beth caught her breath. “Jesus, Jerry! I thought you had a cooking class tonight.” Jerry stumbled behind Beth and began massaging her back. “I thought I’d surprise you, you know, since the kids are-” Beth pushed him away and decided she missed the comforts of boxed wine. “What _else_ did you do?” Jerry grabbed her hand and lead her to the dining room with a candle lit dinner. “O-oh…I see.” Beth walked over to the chair and cleared her throat. Jerry sat down and raised a brow at her. “You don’t want stir-fry?” Beth face palmed and seated herself. “Forget it.”  
  
Jerry crossed his arms. “What?” Beth rolled her eyes. “Why are we eating here like our kids didn’t leave to try to spring Rick out of prison; and why did you wait three days to tell me? I would’ve went, it’s been almost a week. What if they got arrested too?”  
  
Jerry tensed his shoulders. “You were at work. I _couldn’t_ stop them, and they didn’t go alone.”  
  
Beth dropped her fork and rubbed her temples. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? THIS is what I meant by things getting worse! You don’t even know who or what they ran off with!” Jerry cringed as the sounds of a large shuttle landed towards the garage. They both glanced at each other and sprinted to the door.  
  
Synm was carrying Rick in its arms. “He’s not doing too great, where does he sleep?”  
  
Morty and Summer were rushing with packs of medical equipment. “Follow us. Mom we might need you.” Synm waved their suggestion. “All hands on deck.” Jerry and Beth scowled simultaneously. “Morty, I’m going to need that heart.” Synm glanced at the workbench and took Rick to the back of the garage; gently laying him on his cot and everyone followed behind. Summer reached for the light and Synm shouted. “No! We can see fine, hand me the scalpel and endoscope.” Synm ripped his shirt off and his torso eerily glowed orange as Morty handed both tools while setting the jar down. “Summer, take his pulse. Beth, attach the magnetic filter and carefully place the endoscope down Rick’s esophagus. Stop when you see the end and don’t close off the airway...you know what, I need a safety net.” Jerry panicked while watching his wife follow Synm’s instruction. “What’s wrong with him, why don’t we go to a space hospital?”  
  
Synm hissed while waiting to performing the tracheotomy, vaguely impressed at the pure lack of his gag reflex. Rick buckled upon entry of the scalpel to his throat.  
  
“By regulation every prisoner is unknowingly forced to swallow a chip that’s not only a tracking device, but it also acts as a micro bomb that grows and ruptures your insides if you try to leave their jurisdiction.” Everyone gaped at Synm, its gills rumbled while pointing to Rick’s closet. “Jerry, find some restraints and strap him across the shoulders and waist. Ropes, whips, pressure collars...anything, even a harness. Then hold down his legs.” Jerry cringed at the idea of usage. “How would you know that he has any, and how’s it supposed to help?” Beth bared her teeth as Synm shouted at him. “I don’t have time to explain, either get me the straps or the next medical procedure I perform is going to be a vasectomy! Do you need a goddamn self help book about your impotent hang ups or can we save this mans life?!”  
  
Jerry grumbled while blindly rummaging through the closet.  
  
“Beth, we’re going to switch spots and I need to know when the dye starts to fade. You’re going to guide the chip to my lead. Trust me, this’ll be easier than going invasive.” Beth blinked rapidly, she never thought the first human she might have to operate on would be her father. Synm told Summer to hold Rick’s head still as Morty held the container with the beating heart. As Synm guided the magnetic camera into Rick’s stomach, Synm cut the tension in the room. “The hospitals by law aren’t allowed to perform extractions unless the prisoner is released. This is what keeps the bureaucracy in the highest authority. It’s like a Xenomorph-face-hugging-house-arrest hybrid bracelet but entirely less useless. If I didn’t drug him we’d be mobbed by the Feds already.” Synm’s voice cracked like a whip in the room.  
  
“Summer, heart rate.”  
  
Summer quietly multiplied. “Thirty five over eighty seven.” Synm rotated the camera until it saw the chip respond to the low pulse. “Rough estimate. Luckily with his age, chipping his arrhythmic heart would be a massive mistake. Which means we only get one shot at this. Beth, I need you to use the magnetic organ retractor and slowly trace it towards me on my count.” Beth confirmed solemnly. Synm looked at everyone with assurance.  
  
“Now.” Synm ordered with concentration.  
  
  
  
**Twelve Days later.**  
  


Rick groaned as the sunlight peered through the cracked door. As he struggled to speak, his throat seemed to become immensely sore. He immediately recognized the pristine crescent ship perched in the driveway, and got dressed in front of the mirror. The first thing Rick noticed while sliding into his sweater was the definition, his entire form was more rigid with toning. It was this feeling of energy rushing blood everywhere as it seemed like he regained over decade back. Leaning back in pride, Rick also examined his legs; solid, lean, and even his complexion seemed a bit revitalized. Exhaustion seemed to set in as he threw on his slacks and headed for the garage; there was a floating heart encapsulated by a metallic creature that hit his peripheral vision, and Rick ran into the kitchen. A scowl set in as the icy kitchen floor met his nerve endings. Rick grabbed a bottle of Hennessy from the fridge.  
  
“You’re not supposed to be up yet. You’ve got another day of recovery.”   
  
Synm crossed both sets of its arms with lowered lids. It was wearing the white body suit again. Rick locked his jaw and shrugged. “The morphine wore off, this is plan B.” A second pair of steps closed in as the refrigerator door slammed. “R-Rick?” Morty threw himself into a hug. Rick poofed his hair in a hoarse overtone. “Y-Yeah I already told you. Rick and Morty for a hundred years.” Morty let go to run upstairs. Synm chuckled while flipping one it's braids. “Resilient old fuck aren’t you?” Rick took a heavy swig while eyeing its frame. “Care to find out?” The rest of the Smith family nearly jumped down the stairs to race to him. “Perhaps...Tell me if your vision gets splotchy, I'll adjust your dosage.” Synm admired its work on muscular reconstruction and slipped into the garage in isolation. "We knew you'd pull through!" Before he could give chase, Beth and Summer's voices bounced off the walls in jubilation. Jerry was trailing behind while sighing. After Rick reunited with the family, he also drew back into the garage.     
  
He approached his concealed bookcase and noticed the compartment latch out of place.   
  
“You broke into my safe and you’re going to tell me why.” Rick demanded, he was only a third into the bottle of Hennessy; and for some reason there was no effect but his throat healing a bit faster. “I was feeling sentimental.” Synm was working on extending the heat sink to its phone. Synm’s words stimulated his ire. “Bullshit, I know how you operate. Why’d you break me out? Was there a-ehhhh Dilorpian dictator on Entio 9 that needs to be overthrown? Some-some gang Walyp drug racket that needs to be put down or-or is this just about the Enrapture? Which you selfishly negate any form of emotional continuity to leave me in a physical and mental draught?” Rick yanked Synm by its shoulder and the rumbling signified a warning in its throat that filled the silence in the garage. “It’s time Rick, you owe me this much. Also, you’re fucking welcome.” He staggered back, the Hennessy finally driving into him as a violent torpor.     
  
“Y-You fucking serious? Synm, you still treat me as an experiment. Y-Y-You pump me full of what I can assume are some steroids or-or a hallucinogenic? You know I’m not political and we both think altruism is self-defeating.” Synm parted its lips to oppose but remained silent.The gravel began to settle back into the grain of his voice. “You probably poisoned me to get me t-to do t-th-this for you! What’s the catch, because you always pull me in to drop me off! Synm, you didn’t even say goodbye. Eleven years later an-and-and you want to just drop back into my lap? H-How can I even trust you?” Synm turned back to the workbench without a change of expression. “Trust? You’re too irrational when you’re sober. The confines of our relationship needs to remain physical with only winces of intimacy. You become possessive, which is fetching, but isn’t overall conducive.” Synm rolls its neck as its flesh became sticky again. “Everything I do ultimately benefits everyone. I can deal with you being single minded, what can’t stand is your level of irresponsibility. You’d never sacrifice yourself for what’s important. Come back when you’re wasted enough to think beyond the planetary mindset.”   
  
Rick snatched the battery from the table and held it behind his back.   
  
“Don’t fucking dismiss this! I may have most understanding of the bigger picture, b-but I’m still human enough to know when I’m being used! Even the Nukarids value affinity, it’s in the cradle of your entire civilization.” Synm slammed down the nut drivers and screws as its nails began to extend into talons. “Don’t marginalize the semantics, we enframe everything down for the sake of utility! Rick you KNOW why I can’t - we can’t be.” Rick threw his hands in the air helplessly. “Do I? On the off chance you find a loophole to your genetic output? Synm you’ve neglected your own individuality while amassing these-these entities.” He gestured aggressively from left to right with the bottle swishing to speed. “Then skirting around your rituals as you slowly become a melting pot of overcooked dumplings or-or fondue! Y-Yeah, I know you just extract from the partners you knock out and dump your genes in them like a vat by injection. ALL except for me or others of me you’ve probably encountered. Do you even have a suitor to enter your Goddequean stage? Synm, you could have anyone in the multiverse...Why me?”   
  
The garage door connected to the house crumbled as Morty and Summer collapsed through.   
  
“Oh, man, oh Geez. You-You said we’d all go to Blipz and Chitz!”   
  
“Later.” Synm dragged out a contraption that resembled the neck of a cannon, and got out the seat while looking at Rick. “Floshpin comes first.” Rick shifted in his stupor. “Y-You’re telling me we can’t take a day to recuperate, after all you did perform a non-invasive surgery.” Synm remained adamant. “I used to break bones while naming them. Not exactly the right person to pitch this to.” Rick puckered his lips while digging through his boxes. “You heard Synm, give us...twenty, thirty minutes? This isn't over by the way.” Synm arched its brow and snorted. “Give or take. Hand me the chassis chamber and the...psionic monetizer.” Rick frowned at his grand kids timing, there wasn't too much that he didn't know... A stimulating deviant, Synm was always an enigma. Rick could feel his deltoids relax as the Hennessy swayed his more fluid motions of prepping the table.    
  
After a few hours their frustration began to reach its breaking point.   
  
“No, no, no...You’re shitting me right?” Synm crossed the top set of its arms. “We can’t use the same adapter, the distortion frequency will clash with the stealth system.” Rick tossed the trapezoidal shaped converter and lifted a saw. “You're not a butcher. Stop. Screwing. Around.” Synm rubbed its temples. Rick huffed while taking another swig from his recovered flask. “Fuck me Synm, if we can't paralyze, disintegrate, turn them into goop...The fuck you want?” Synm perused Ricks shelving. “Disorientation or place them in a fracture. Take the challenge, Plaxar knows you need it.” Rick sneered as he inhaled. “They’re slaves, who gives a shit?” Synm tossed a collection of EMP bomb schematics on the table; then pulled along the fringes of Rick’s hair roughly. “R-Real Mature. I-I guess you’re going to pout now?”   
  
“How about a back fist?” Synm shot back while letting its talons reflect from the garage lighting.   
  
“Depends, you got enough time for it?” Rick leaned back a bit, showing off his frame in hubris condition. Synm’s eyes followed all the way down with a predatory smirk as a gentle rumble bellowed from its gills. “ _Goddammit_. Focus.” Synm shoved all imagery that formed any type of distraction. Rick didn’t have to say anything else. “Don’t be smug, with my hormones a muck I’d probably take Squanchy in one of your closets.” Rick pursed his lips again while unrolling the incomplete blueprints. “Whatever you say.”   
  
Synm observed as they both compared the notes that descended into semantic technical jargon.   
  
“I swear to god… Use the polarized chrysalis as the guiding system so you have more control of the ray. We’re not making a sun, stop extending the formula!” Synm was almost screaming at Rick and he was grinding his teeth. “Christ. Fine. Death is too good for them. I-I get it.” Synm’s hands began to tangle in its hair. “Do you REALLY get it Rick? It seems like we’re on two different planes of existence!” Rick slammed down the screwdriver and pen. “Why don’t you do it Synm? C’mon get your hands dirty with me.” Synm released its fist to reveal the set of clear talons and bashed a hammer on each one. Summer and Morty creeped in to inspect the source of yelling. “I am physically unable to work with fragile pieces. They won’t retract.”   
  
“You managed to sync with a Birdperson?”   
  
“Managed? Rick, look at me. You'd have to RSVP to have a conversation with me." Synm found his curiosity winsome. "I was aiming to give myself those glorious wings but science is a fickle mistress. I forgot to take into account that my melding with a Ginkgoe centuries ago; it gave me a set of…I think the closest earth animal would be a pterodactyl? Slick, webbed appendages. Gliding sounds fun until you literally become dependent on gravity and wind. Anyhow, both the wings are dominant and I had to find a female of either species with recessive genes to dispense my load. She survived the ritual and wanted to keep the kid, but...that wasn't happening. I told her it'd devour her entrails from the inside and end it before..." Synm sighed in exhaustion. "No one listens until it's too late.” Rick stared at Synm wide eyed as the entire Smith family was at a loss for words. Synm snatched the portal gun off the charger. “Just go. I’ll carry the frame of the cannon into the ship and assemble the rest off world. Take these Flerbos.” Summer furrowed her brows. “Why off world and what was the bet?”   
  
Synm pointed upwards while handing over the arcade credits.   
  
“Oh that? I’ve had a few run-in’s with the council; the bet was that they wouldn’t be able to recognize me whenever I returned. I should’ve bet actual credits next time, I mean they honestly need to update their retinal recognition software. Protection is not a strong suit all across that board.” Rick gave a lurid glare at Synm as it continued. “Back to what’s actually important. The Federation performs planet wide satellite scanning to prevent “terroristic threats” by plaguing entire sectors with their...enforcement of infestation. Sound familiar?” Synm walked its long digits along the neck of the cannon. “This baby would be a class five violation, it could land us back in your equivalent of Sagittarius A if misused...or discovered.” Rick eyed Synm’s supreme expression. “E-E-Easy Synm. Don’t just dump your vats of information from habit, s-sometimes you need to keep them in the dark. For their sake. I-I’ll be there in a bit, don’t w-AIG-t up.” Synm shrugged in indifference. “That reminds me, we have to chuck the heart.”   
  
The Smith family just walked through the portal.      
  
Rick rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start. “Where’s my ship?” Synm snapped its talons and blinked four times. “I knew I was forgetting something.. Meeseeks, are you on the designated asteroid?” There was no response as Synm checked its voicemail. “I’m Mr. Meeseeks, LISTEN to ME! The minefield sure was hard to navigate, but Mr. Meeseeks pulled THROUGH! This the CoORdinates!” Synm cringed while scribbling it down and simultaneously lifting the frame of the cannon on a metallic dolly.         
  
“If you want to head for Blipz and Chitz, go. I’ll catch up in a bit.”   
  
Synm began strapping the cannon down inside its ship. “Hand me the Meeseeks box Rick, I know you’re tired of being cooped up.” Rick stood on the latch of the hull with crossed arms. The Hennessy still swinging freely. “No. I’m coming with.” Synm rolled its eyes while clicking in each bind. “Why? I don’t need you right now, go have some fun.” Rick pulled Synm from the ground and the rumbling in its throat exhumed; closing the gap between them. “I could care less about your avoidance Synm, but you don’t get to just leave so soon. We’re going to find a way to solve this.” Rick rolled his fingers on the bottle, switching to take a swig from his flask. “A-All you do is use us for your gain until you're bored, t-t-then vanish without a trace for years at a time. You're literally the inspiration of the rolling stone. I-I’ve seen split atoms stick around longer.” Synm shivered as it smoothly pushed him away. It began its stride to the front of the ship and punched in the destination and then sat down with a groan.   
  
“I wasn’t leaving yet so get to the point. I can’t follow all of your references.”   
  
Rick slammed down his flask. “That’s what you said eleven years ago, I-I’ve known you more than half my life! W-we talk for ten minutes and y-y-you’re already heading to skip fucking town Synm? What work is so great that you have to abandon me for these extended periods of time? Don’t-Don’t treat me like-like some worthless intern, stumbling to find the difference between a merge of pseudo and actual science. I-I'm tired of numbing myself in hopes that you'll return to me and decide that I am more than worth your time!” The ship interrupted in its neutral nature before Synm could properly respond.  
  
  
  
****__**Thrusters Engaged, Preparing For Concentrated Launch In Five Seconds. Keep All Appendages Confined.**  
  


Synm felt its forked tongue coil. “They could build monuments to your misplaced egotism. I treat you better than about ninety six percent of the galactic population; you want a key to a fucking city!? You know I can’t give up my work when I’m so close to the conclusion. Rick, you have family.” Rick paused before downing the rest of the Hennessy. “You’re saying it like you wouldn’t be included. Y-You know Synm, there are some perks to giving a fuck.” Rick heaved himself into the plush seating as Synm lashed outward. “Loyalty to any mindset is a tool that beings use to manipulate others into doing things they don’t want to do. Same as honor but with more social and literal suicide. I...I don’t see the point anymore. It’ll fade with time, dissipate into the dust of the cosmos to eventually be swallowed by quasars. All of it, including me.” Synm affirmed while gripping the manual steering. “I just want to make a difference that won’t permanently damage THIS universe.” Rick grumbled and adjusted his seat belt. “Motives don’t matter, the action does. H-How would you even know that you can’t do both? You see us as an obligation, as a source of corruption? The chaos theory can easily counteract your weak ass response.” Synm rolled the idea around. “I don’t want to hit a stage of stagnation. I’ve only survived this way for two thousand years due to distance and observation. It’s...all I know.” Rick rubbed his chin. “W-we can, no - did so much together. What you do you even plan on doing when this is over? Do y-yo-you honestly think I’d hold you back?”  
  


**_Launching in 3...2….1_ **  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop some comments and kudos. 
> 
> My biggest worry is my application of simplifying a concept. I just go into this repetitive state of incongruity, because let's face it; none of us has any real direction in life. We have to make it ourselves. Reality is a crushing facet, but it's nothing to fear. Pick your favorite form of escapism and stay on your goal or ball...or whatever would ultimately make you complete as a person. That's the liquor talking though. When you hit a mark of completion you'll always be unsatisfied. Stay hungry for knowledge, it's the only thing that'll keep you sane.


	9. Tabula Rasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to lighten it up a bit, but don't worry the heavy undertones are still there.  
> Aren't you stoked for season 3? (UGH I can't wait to binge.)  
> I might even make a second set of adventures if inspired. Key words MIGHT and INSPIRED.  
> Anyway, you're still here? Scroll down man!

Blipz and Chitz  
  
  
  
The Smith family chose this venue to release tension in the foreign arcade. The “Ooo's and Ahh’s” seemed to bypass a smirking Morty as he warned them of which games could possibly kill them by the first hour. This was after all, a second home to him. Jerry and Beth seemed to wander off as Summer was always nearby with the majority of the Flerbos. “You think we’re safe here? I mean, Synm wouldn’t sell us out...right?” Morty was already picking out Roy 2 as Summer’s choice to play. “S-Sometimes you can’t worry about things you h-have no control over. T-Try this one out, we’re supposed to have fun here.” Summer read the title in silence. “Can’t say no to that.” As Summer hopped in the seat a discerning look crossed her face as the t.v. was switched to the news by the bar.  
  
“In other News; there was a breach in the Super Max Galactic Federation Prison number eight. There was rioting and several unexplained deaths. The Warden was incapacitated minutes before the incident and even with the orbital cameras; that the administration called the closest thing to being - and we quote “omnipotent”. The Warden suddenly collapsed in a heap during the interrogation and is unable to file a report.” A flurry of chuckles came from the two hybrids of an Bigfoot and a duck. “They say he’s in sustainable condition, and still able to work from the ward. Maybe he fainted from embarrassment, Koilma. Next up on Monsters inside Us, how to remove those pesky pustules without using a laser.”  
  
They both sighed in relief.  
  
“See Summer, nothing to worry about. N-Now give it a try.” Morty placed the helmet on his sister's face before she a chance to object. Morty snatched the Flerbos while skimming the glorious draw of the poly-chromatic lights. A large floating head barked at Jerry over the slots. Beth was attempting to smooth it over with the eight bit ringing, slinging coins, and thumping techno music overhead. Morty glanced over and decided to play the Lutari touch screen Street War Lord Strategist. A menu popped up with multiple options.   
  
**_Select your Set to claim. Followed by territory you wish to begin, which products and racket you want to build from. Commencing initiation sequence in 5 minutes._**  
  
As Morty began to dial in the the choices as a slime green portal opened a few feet away from him. Rick stepped out alone while downing the last of his first flask. He shoved his hands into his lab coat and walked towards his grandson. “Y-You guys spent all the Fl-erugph-bos?” Morty gleamed quietly in his belching presence. “I-I think Summer has them, no, wait. Here.” Morty handed over the alien marked bag. “W-Where’s Synm?” Rick scratched his nose while leaning on the case of the neighboring racing simulators. “Synm is...wh-where it wants to be..” Morty looked back down at the Street War Lord Strategist. “It, didn’t go too well?” Rick scoped the area for a server and saw Beth and Jerry almost being shooed away from one of the games. “Assembling the M.D.R. was the easy part. I’m going to have to do something waaay out of my scripted character Morty.”  
  
Morty couldn’t quite understand, but felt a twinge of guilt build into his ears. “S-Synm plans on using you as a fall guy. I-I don’t think we should go - or - or trust him - it.”  
  
Rick rolled his eyes after looking at Morty’s starting territory.  “Synm already told me everything. Relax Morty.”   
  
He appeared muddled. “Wh-Wh-What? Y-You’re going through with it anyway? Why Rick?” Rick sighed, resisting the scalding urge to leave. “Space relations are never easy. Nukairds are notoriously callous due to their suppression of emotion. Th-Th-Their tier of population is divided by the grasp of multiple species in rationality, identity, and purpose. R.I.P. for short. I-It takes about two centuries for them to acclimate and absorb literally as mu-uurrg-ch information based on their type of intelligence. Think of it as a private, military, and art academy - whatever you can think, a-a institute rolled into one. Then they have to not only learn their culture, it’s the ones that were previously assimilated down to the societal interactions, ethics, and the obvious power structures to lead to an almost perfect civilization. Think of it as the purest form of secluded utilitarianism, except if you can’t produce a purpose you’re eje-eeeggh-cted on a “pilgrimage” to recruit some...one...thing that can be of use. Their way of life is dying Morty, i-it’s like library of Alexandria but on the galactic scale. We can’t let it burn down again!” Rick paused as Morty blinked and started to type on his phone.  
  
“Morty! Y-You listening? I-I didn’t have to explain this if you were just going to ignore me anyway.”  
  
“I-I was looking for the definition of utilitarianism? I don’t a-a-always follow what you’re talking about, I’ve been studying more since you l-left and - and after meeting Synm…” A smirk slid across Rick’s face. “D-Don’t worry Morty, there’s no shame in extending y-your horizons. Synm has that effect one everyone it encounters. I-It keeps you ahead of the curve. Once I get in there, it’ll be alllll good in the neighborhood. Speaking of..” Morty turned his attention to the game after reading the definition. “Y-You really didn’t answer the question, b-but it’s fine. You’ll still need me right t-to conceal your brainwaves? Right?” Rick shut his eyes and expanded his arms. “Hell yeah! And e-e-earth could take a few lessons from them. In fact, no human has even been in contact with their home world Semontri-49. I-It’s a frontier Morty, we’re literally go-ogh-ing where no man has been before Morty.” Rick wiped the bile from his mouth.      
  
The sounds of a dazed Summer echoed sharply. “Grandpa?”  
  
“In the flesh. What’s your score on Roy?” Rick scrutinized Summer’s disorientation. “I was in the middle of a uni-cycling marathon on Mt. Vesuvian against the Wunclers with my ex-wife! One of my legs were amputated...and, and my son was the one that had to do it! I...died in the chopper at forty two!” Summer snapped back to her normal state. “What’s the plan? Are we done with Synm, because that’s all it needed? Just the cannon, we can go home after this?” Morty shook his head. “I-I already told him Summer, he still wants to go.” Rick mumbled under his breath. “Cue double take.” Summer thinned her eyes. “Why?” Rick and Morty answered simultaneously “Space Relations.” Summer reached for the bag of Flerbos. “I hope Synm eventually dropping trou is worth risking our lives!”   
  
Rick bared his teeth. “Hey, this isn’t some college dorm fling or-or work fraternization lawsuit waiting to happen, Summer! I-If Synm passes on it’s genes it takes us t-to the next stage, no longer do we have to be ca-augh-ed Homo! I’m going to have to get waaaay up in there Summer!” Morty scratched his head. “W-Wouldn’t be easier to just help Synm then meld with-with someone else? I-I mean, you just need the skin?” Rick didn't blink at the statement. “Wouldn't be the same. Nukaird relationships take decades to develop. T-Take it from me kids, you do Not want to just hop in their beds.” Summer looked around with a sinking feeling in her gut. Rick continued anyway. “They'll kill you mid range and pass on the equivalent of Viagra related side effects that slowly deteriorates into a shell of who you once were.”  
  
The familiar sound of a portal opening stopped Rick’s train of thought.  
  
Synm emerged from the green entryway, not looking for a specific direction to walk in. The first two people it recognized was Beth and Jerry, trying to translate the alien writing on the slots. Synm decided to tap Beth on her shoulder, Beth noticed the shimmery glaze over it’s eyes. “This is unusual for me. Can we...converse?” Beth paused and snatched a few Flerbos in enthusiasm. “Of course. So, what’s the...um...problem?”   
  
Synm waved its talons for Beth to follow it. “Is it cruel to let someone love you? All I see is rolling numbers, data, the impending point of where our words, motivation, and dreams align in a single algorithm.” Synm dropped a few Flerbos on the Ancient Roulette table to bet on the blue sector with alien hieroglyphics randomly. It studied the neon orange and sky blue scratches set in the angle of the table. “It manifests itself into the energy of what your species calls “god”. Chance is just an uncalculated probability, and the only thing we can control is our reaction.” Beth remained silent, unsure of why she was chosen for this interaction. “All of it can vanish without even a whimper; just like walking into a room and forgetting what you originally came in there for. I mean, how do you stay around Jerry? What makes you embrace your humanity, and say that he’s worthwhile?”   
  
Beth parted her lips to speak, but nothing came out as the holoball spun rapidly around the wheel of the table.   
  
“It’s mostly for Summer and Morty, I was raised in a broken home. You know what Rick is like. I guess, I do love Jerry...but I’m not _in_ love with him. Even now I wonder if I should stow away on some spacecraft and start my life over.” Synm plucked a cocktail from one of the floating serving saucers and handed it to Beth. “Thanks. I think the best you can do is find a common ground and build from there. Let me ask you, as much traveling and experience you have… Is it _possible_ to fill that sinking, crushing, void?”   
  
Synm glanced at the holoball finally slowing down.   
  
“That’s the individual's choice. Find a passion or obsession that serves as a distraction; which puts you halfway there in your medical field. Then you find the best form of escapism when that fire dims or the pressures of reality becomes too heavy. It’s kind of like asking are we doomed to be the person that we are? All sweet subjective perception followed by reaction. Embrace radical freedom, clarity can only be offered through willpower. Rick is great because he rejects the idea of goodness, but ultimately it will eventually destroy anything he holds dear. I, for some terrible reason... I’m drawn to his chaos.” Beth knocked back the drink. “I think we all are, it’s why I put up with him too. Y’know...It’s OK to open yourself up a bit, Rick seemed better for it. At least in the small window of time he does...did.”   
  
They both watched the holoball stop on the sky blue hieroglyphic shaped as a bolt. The Ancient Roulette began to bling and pour out tickets.                   
  
“Hmm...Don’t get used to this poignant phase. It’ll wear off soon enough.” Synm flicked its forked tongue, walking away from the winnings. It tasted the air and Rick’s scent flooded its receptors, it pondered the difference between settling and valuing relationships as they are. Detachment had a price, all these centuries...Was it a waste? His voice seemed to arc over the ambiance in a drunken rant. “And - And that’s why you _always_ make reservations in a hedonism den during a Markovian rave raid _Morty_. Dr-Drop down the Rack Up menu and spend the shoplifting points to bail out Ventana Zandi or he’s going to give you a Picasso when you get locked up! Then bribe the judge...y-y-you don’t have enough evidence because you slacked off on the Xap Sam when I told you to risk it all to find out if sh-he was an informant!” Summer was testing the driving simulators in third place. “Can’t believe you haven't held the transit station hostage yet.” Rick had two cocktails balanced between one of his hands while controlling his wheel. Morty was still trying to grasp the understanding of the overwhelming menu. “Sh-Shut it, both of you! I-I can’t think, or - or do anything if you’re both riding my back!” Rick was racing Summer and was in second place; his attention was divided yet he remained functional. The firing of the Street War Lord Strategist seemed to echo as the screams and screen blared. “Morty, MORTY! Y-Y-You don’t have enough street cred to hire a zoomer, up-up there, top right adjacent to the nukes. C-Cut off ties with...Ho-How many times do I gotta repeat myself?”   
  
Synm stalked between them with a peculiar smile.  
  
“Rick, everyone doesn’t learn with negative reinforcement.” Rick nearly craned his neck and studied Synm’s eyes. The fleeting silver sparkles seemed to dance along the faded pupils of its opaled iris. “You’re doing Mercury droplets now!?” Synm rocked back and forth calmly while wrapping two of its arms around Rick’s shoulders. “I didn’t want you to freak out, the pain from this transformation is _excruciating_. I’ve had my stomach pumped from Higlorial Sepsis but all of this takes the cake. Why are humanoid bodies so fragile?” Rick froze as Synm’s second pair of hands massaged his scalp and ran its fingers through his follicles. “H-How many?” Synm curved its talons to the side to ensure no accidental scraping. Even his bald spot had signs of new growth. “Four of course. I…” Synm switched languages mid sentence, Rick immediately picked up in translation of their own invented code. “... _I diluted the Mercury with lotus petals. Stop worrying.”_ Rick floored the gas and switched the stick shift and clicked his tongue with a garbled collision of alien dialect. “ _What are_ ** _you_** _so afraid of? Y-You only do heavy Merc when you’re uncertain of an outcome._ ” Morty and Summers ears perked up at the sudden change in dialect. Synm rolled its neck and sweated out. “ _In the event of my demise, I’ve put you as my beneficiary._ ” Rick slammed the simulated vehicle into a wall, the flashes of Birdperson getting gunned down made his teeth grit. “ _Y-You’re not. NO. Never again. I-I’m not losing someone else I care about to some overdrawn war! Synm…nothing can substitute...I-I don’t e-e-even care about -”_ Synm buried its head in Rick’s hair as the flourished grief scarred his voice. Summer decided to keep her eyes on the screen, the shifted energy of the conversation made her uncomfortable. Even Morty couldn’t help but notice the sharpened tension in their tones.   
  
_“ I won’t leave you, if you don’t leave me._”   
  
Rick gave pause; unsure if Synm’s words were misheard, incorrectly translated, or the cocktails were spiked. Synm released its four arms and fluidly grazed the flesh under his chin. Rick’s words tumbled effortlessly. “ _You’ve changed your mind? I-I don’t want to ruin you.”_ Rick smirked as the rush between elation and sorrow consumed his nerves. Synm looked downwards while reading his contradicting body language, a coarse rumble exhumed through its gills. “ _Maybe I need to be ruined. I’d be inclined to ravage you until you’re mewling for sweet relief, no point in just one of us savoring it.”_ A large part of him was grateful the support of the seat held his weight; the lines of trepidation and arousal blurred. Synm switched back to the more common tongue. “I’ll be joining the next race. Morty, grab the fourth chair. I prefer to crush the competition in a singular sweep.”   
  
Rick drained his drinks in seconds. “K-Keep dreaming, I-I’ll be-eaugh-t your high score with my eyes closed and-and one hand tied behind my back. You’ve gotten rusty since you’ve been sitting in the laps of luminaries." Synm locked its jaw as Rick continued. "Summer move to the third chair, Synm’s gonna cover my eyes so it can’t say I cheated.” The simulator announced the preparation sequence.    
  
**_Select your vehicle and track._**  
  
Summer grumbled about the gears being too loose and slid into the next seat. Synm’s eyes brightened and upped the ante. “I’ll steer with my knees and use only one arm to even out the handicap. I hope you’re prepared to be the first loser.” Rick had this mixed look of resolve and distance. “P-Put the Flerbos where your mouth is.” Synm snickered as Rick worked his calloused fingers into its rib cage as Synm took the seat. “St-Stop! I’ll KILL y-hahaha!” A flurry of giggles from being under the influence. Synm could never get used to consistent contact, however his touch set its skin a blaze. A soft rumble of release made Synm sigh while they all flipped through the selections; adjusting the seat closer to its knees. Summer and Morty shrugged and watched Synm’s face relax. It almost seemed bizarre in the sudden refinement of its attitude. “L-Lean in, and-and put your hair in front. We’re both...here.” Rick wrapped the length of Synm’s braid to block its vision. “Yeah, yeah. I know...this itches a bit, can I-” Rick snorted. “Shit no, we both agreed to fly blind. Deal with it. Y-You think I’m an idiot?” Synm chuckled while tilting its head to the ceiling to hold the braids in place. “Worth a shot.”    
  
**_Starting Engines._** ** _  
_****_  
_** Synm covered Rick’s eyes and his hand locked with Synm’s auxiliary right hand. “This is going to be a cluster fuck.” Rick had a hint of seriousness in his tone as each simulator pinged. “You can back out aaaannyytime.” Synm flicked its forked tongue. “As if I’d _ever_ give you the satisfaction of me admitting defeat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop dem Kudos and Comments.
> 
> Throw in a bookmark too, just press all the buttons dammit!
> 
> Holy Balls this took two weeks to finalize. Thank which ever god for not having the pressure of having a set deadline. Which is possibly part of the issue, the lack of pressure is also making me see the wall of not wanting to brainstorm and or quit... I'm not because I know what and where I want the story to go...it's just the HOW of it that's going to unravel. I won't be able to post until next week or so, you were forewarned. (I don't like putting my name on crap projects, and I don't want to rush and give you like half a page.) Waiting is usually worth it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have genuinely been winging it from this chapter on, so if it seems less structured... Just hang on for the next one, I'll tie it all in.  
> This rushing in process is not how I normally produce work, but it gives me a distant air of anxiety.  
> Anyway, don't fret. I won't give up anytime soon. Without further ado, enjoy!

  
The Smith Residence  
  
  
A pair of praying mantids scuttled around the front of the building. Inspecting the front door and windows, antennas flicking while holding a square device that flashed a slow red. “Detective Narm, find anything?” The insect being addressed was wearing a golden badge on a brown trench coat with a matching cap. “No ones home Mint, but it’s still beeping. This townhouse was under close observation for almost half a year due to a fugitive named Rick Sanchez. We won’t need a warrant, he’s not even the intended target.” They both checked their six on both sides. “You think he might know where she is?” The second praying mantis nodded and kicked in the front door with it’s hind legs. “This is the G.F.D. come out with your limbs and extremities up!”   
  
They both signaled to each other while lowering their center of gravity.   
  
The sounds of their cocked pistols echoed in the house. “Possibly. There’s a rumor going around, she might be behind Xio’s _current_ leave of absence. He didn’t even know what Synm is capable of, I’ve been trailing her for years. That guy at the hospital was a stand-in so the media didn’t have a widespread panic.” The mantids were metathorax to metathorax while hiking up the stairs in practice. “Poor bastard, they’ve got ‘em hooked up to some demetastasizer. They can’t find the agent of malignancy, so they’re performing some blood transfusion. I give him a few weeks.” Mint’s scanned the hallway while eyeing the speed of the beeping. “Stay on your guard, the tracker _is_ nearby.” Det. Narm and his forgettable partner Mint checked each room. “You sure it was Synm? She’s been quiet for months, not even to hit a casino for funds.”   
  
Nothing out of the ordinary.      
  
“There is literally tons of accounts and contacts she could hide in. This is the only lead, we have to be sure this _is_ Synm.” They remained in their odd formation and headed back down the stairs. The sound of laughter and a portal opening interrupted their snooping. They both divided and holstered their pistols to crawl onto the ceiling above the concealed banister. “If anyone resists, take them down too.” Their slicing claws at the ready, peering into the dining room straight to the half broken garage door. Synm was the first voice that seeped through the drywall. “Earning the free beer was simple, all you have to do is calculate the number out of the fifty two cards which part of the deck was cut contained the most clubs… Fuck me. I forgot to get rid of the heart. Grab the Meeseeks box.”   
  
The stammering of a child followed. “G-Got it.”   
  
The sound of a wavering timbre muddled in between. “W-Wait! I don’t understand, I want to just lay down!” Synm’s animistic tone and the sound of it tossing someone across the garage made a crashing sound. “I swear to every almighty I will put you so far into the ground that magma will be the only thing you can garble out of your useless throat!” A muffled set of words from a middle aged woman intervened. “Jesus Jerry. Just do what Synm says.” A set of pants echoed in the room as the pincers on the leading mantis clicked in confirmation. “Isn’t THAT a surprise? You’re NEVER on my side! I could’ve been paralyzed; and if it’s not Rick you’re defending, it’s his psychotic friends!” The woman sank into a rebuttal. "I'm pretty sure if it wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. Quit being a victim." Jerry huffed in disbelief. "Nice, _REAL_ nice. Leaving me at the mercy of some-"    
  
The flood of Meeseeks stormed the front and back of the house; catching both insects off guard.  
  
Rick spun the Meeseeks box on his fingers while exhaling from a joint. “N-Nice try you guys, but Synm could smell you a mile away. J-Just tie them up s-s-so Jerry doesn’t bitch.” The Meeseeks held down both of the mantids while frowning. “We're not taking prisoners today.” Synm snatched the tablecloth from the dining room and wrapped it around their faces and drove its knees to their pincers to block the oxygen. The Meeseeks encircled them protectively while Synm punched them into unconsciousness simultaneously. Both mantids struggled to the last breath as the Smith family left the safeguard of Synm’s ship. “Dispose of their car and release the encapsulated heart. Make it look like an accident, without any evidence. Also fix the doors with proper locks. You have twenty minutes.” Rick blinked and pulled a giant huff from the joint then coughed rapidly. “Synm, when you’re right, you’re right. This, is good shit.” He tossed out the end of it, almost forgetting what it’s like being around Synm as it whipped the tablecloth back on the table.   
  
“Remind me to never piss you off.”   
  
Synm ignored Rick; then started to look for wires and anything that resembled any type of surveillance. “Excellent. Breaking the shelves did make it more believable. I’m starving, I’ll be back.” Synm pulled out its portal gun and felt its arm being tapped which was slightly irritating. “What now?” The sound of the G.F.D. car packed with the bodies peeled off as its sirens blared. Several Meeseeks stuck around and retrieved some of the tools to fix the doors. Rick tried to rub the redness out his eyes, something resembling warmth crossed his face.   
  
Everyone dodged between the Meeseeks disappearing and the ones rushing to their next task.  
  
Rick pointed his thumb over his shoulder and leaned back to the wall of the kitchen. “S’ not a big deal. Did a bit of grocery shopping before hitting Blipz and Chitz. I-I figured y-you might stick around. MIIIIGHT.” Synm pursed its lip with vexation. “Keep it up. You’ll see what you’re going to get in the end.” Rick crossed his arms, the weed was calming the irregularity in his speech. “You’re realllly going to drag it out of me, aren’t you Synm?” It jolted back a bit, unsure of why he felt forced to do this. “I’m not asking for preferential treatment, don’t make it weird. You don’t owe me anything else. Just be...y’know. Rick. _The_ lovable asshole, _my_ lovable asshole.” Synm shook its head and raided the fridge. “If I wanted to be worshiped I’d become a dictator. _Again_.” Rick delivered a full palmed squeeze to Synm’s backside that made it shudder into the refrigerator door. “Take a seat, all I’ve had was that garbage at the super max. Been awhile since we’ve had proper cuisine.” Synm’s throat rumbled in defiance, confused by the context. “ _NOW._ ” Rick slapped its ass harder in approval, Synm took the hit in full force with a sigh.   
  
“Fine, I’m coming down from the Merc anyway.”        
  
“We’ll do a bit more later.” Rick washed his hands with a smirk and began to prep. As Synm nearly glided into the dining room, the Smith family was already seated. “Regale me with your adventures. You’ll have my attention so long as you can keep it.” Synm tilted its head to Morty. “O-oh! Yeah, one time we went to the Samej-34 to help the addicts of the slums; well that’s what I thought until...” Summer also had a few adventures under her belt. Mostly endowed by some creep that went by the name of Peacock. The only plus side emerged when she empowered herself to the point of forgetting her ex Ethan. They all appeared to have a genuinely good time as Rick would appear at random to correct and insert his form of commentary. Synm shook off that look of concern as his eyes blazed that glossy scarlet. Eventually Rick came out with a five course dinner. Everyone was astounded and took pictures. “Y-You know it’s better when i-it’s hot right? I could just throw it all out if you’re just gonna st-stare at it.” Everyone quickly snagged utensils to dig in. Synm used its high ended mannerisms to savor every bite. “Thoughts?”  Rick watched its movements closely, indirectly staring at Synm’s lips. “Marvelous, as expected.”  
  
Synm only finished half of the plate, walking to the kitchen stocking leftovers.   
  
“This is really good dad, pulled out all the stops.” Beth injected as the rest of the family wolfed down with merely grunts and murmurs of agreement. Synm headed out from the kitchen to the ship. Rick tapped his fingers in a steady beat on the table. “Don’t get used to it.” Jerry watched as Rick looked like something else was needed to be said and interrupted that air of awkwardness. “Sooo. You and Synm, how did that happen? I mean, how do you even establish any form of intimacy?” Rick squinted while shoving a fork full of risotto into his face. “I-I don’t expect you to understand _Jerry,_ but-but try to keep up _._ A-A Nukaird’s nervous system is virtually dead for about four years until their hormones flood their receptors. Little by little their cycling increases until a point their regular functions reaches it’s “climax” all of their biological stages rain down like a broken dam or-or some category six hurricane. Th-Th-That’s when the most wars and crime happens on Semontri-49, t’is the season am I right?” Beth appeared perplexed. “So...you haven’t slept with her yet?”   
  
A sharp laugh ejected from Summer and Morty.   
  
Rick waved them off. “Good one Beth. N-Not this year, no. Doing anything in the line of lechery would equate to fondling some paraplegic. I-I-It’d barely feel anything, kinda like your marriage. It’s _allll_ about timing.” Rick rolled the fork through his lengthy fingers. “Sh-She’s not some virgin, it may be one of the few beings that’s more open than I am.” There was a lair of self deprecation in his voice. “We hit it off for a few years, did everything we wanted. Some of the better years of my life was around her. Then it started to fade, we could see it. Synm had to keep dropping Merc until the pressure of being someone else nearly crushed it. We-We enabled each other into stagnation, even while freedom fighting. K-Kinda like being on t.v. but without any twenty minute resolution; we're in a fanfic for Christ sake! I still don’t know why Synm left…” Beth attempted to reach out to hold his hand in sympathy.  “Screw it.” Rick shrugged and slid out his chair. Jerry rubbed his hands together. “Wait, what’s Merc?” Everyone else sighed as Summer cut in. “DAD, that’s not what’s important!” Rick dropped the fork and slinked to the garage. “Basic Resurrection Biology. I-It’s a hormone stimulant, balances and gives them the demeanor of a more adjustable mindset. A-An equalizer.”  
  
Rick ran his hands along his workbench while fixing his garage back to it’s organized mess.  
  
Synm’s ship rang with the tunes of vopera, seeping calmly as Rick watched the Meeseeks finally vanish. Rick scratched his previous balding spot while stockpiling and decided to enter Synm’s ship. It was kneeling, searching for something. The contents in the beakers and tubes seemed to be recognizable. Rick clutched his box, and lifted a decagon shaped drill bit.         
  
“Y-You know, you could’ve just...gone to my bed.”  
  
Synm didn’t look back. “Not too sure I want to crash where I performed a tracheotomy.”                            
  
Rick strolled over to the floating table, tucking the box under the piloting seat. “Denial doesn’t look good on anyone. You don’t remember in your “offices” strapping me down on top of inoculated patients. Stroking out in battlefields, and-and being mounted between a mountain of what I _hoped_ was cocaine. Y-You can’t deny our form of creative destruction.” Synm licked its lips, letting the past seep into the flashes of its memories. “That was work, this is... different.” Rick cringed in apathy while approaching it. “You mean home? Is that concept lost to the...so, you-you gotta minimize every situation at hand now? What happened? You belong where you want to belong Synm. If, and when we hurt each other, because it’s going to happen. We find absolution. Say it.” Synm’s head remained lowered in a painful whisper.   
  
“...ome.”   
  
Rick genuflected to pick Synm up by its face and had a loss of breath. A mix between sweat and tears flushed over Synm’s face. “Miasma, get the Miasma.” The heat drawn from its skin seemed to expand as the liquid turned corrosive. A few drops seared through his hand as he hissed. “A-A warning would’ve been nice, Synm.” Sharp breaths drew from it as Rick retracted his hands and searched for the breathalyzer pump. “ _Christ_. Acute Acidosis already? These are _some_ commutative customs y-you can’t skip out on; like notifying me when you’re in pain.” The ship once again offered assistance while turning on the ventilation.  
  
**_Scanning for physical threats of the auxiliary life form. Acidosis is not producing to maximum toxicity, if contact is made with caution no permanent damage should affect the carbon based life form._**  
  
He tilted Synm’s head and pressurized the device enough to let Synm slip out of consciousness on release. “This, is for, the…” The acrid smell seeped through his lab coat and skin inflicted harsh winces from Rick. “I-I know. You’re l-uugh-cky you’re w-orgh-th it.” He held Synm in his arms from the now melted parts of carpet, and took a hit from the breathalyzer. The air began to thin out, taking him to a higher plane as he tossed his head back on the seat.    
  
  
BANG. BANG. BANG. **_  
_****_  
_****_  
_****_  
_****_Shields restoring magnetic field in fifty minutes. Twenty Seven percent left._** ** _  
_****_  
_****_  
_****_  
_** “Rick! Grandpa Rick!” The voices of his grandchildren echoed through his ears.  
  
“Wha-a, n-n-not so loud. Your voices ar-re like grating glass.” It was the only response he could muster; Synm was already punching in the coordinates while yelling at nobody in particular. “Strap in, we’re going to have to relocate. Summer, find the vial before we-” Rick looked down at his tattered lab coat and acid worn clothes. “I-I look and smell like the smoking section of a seventies motel room, w-what’s going on?” Synm had a simple response while glancing back at him. “Apparently wiping out those private detectives wasn’t a great idea. We’re in the middle of a chase. Kind of my bad.” Rick stumbled into the backseat as several shots pierced the shields. “Found it.” Morty handed Summer the tube Synm was looking for. Beth was sitting upfront as Jerry somehow became tangled in the bindings of the experimental wall.   
  
**_ENTERING STRATOSPHERE. Proximity warning inbound._**  
  
“You br-auug-ht them with us? H-How, and where are we going to hide them?”       
  
Rick planted himself directly behind Synm, the liquor or last puff of Miasma they took lingered. “Should I have left them at the house? Those weren’t private detectives by the way. They’re Proseguerists, special tactics units for outlaws. I’ll just have to get…” Synm delivered its expertise in flying by providing evasive maneuvers; barely skipping a beat. “Bastard…I’ll have to lure them before...shit.” Synm turned a few knobs while pulling up the manual drives as Rick switched seats with Beth. “Y-You have enough charge, g-get the portal gu-oughs-ns ready. E-Everyone, group up. Emergency EVAC, same hideout?” The ship entered a violent turbulence, knocking around a screaming Jerry.   
  
**_Performing nanite reconstruction. Weapons active, Defense deactivated. Firing at will._**  
  
“Yeah. You sure about this?” Synm took out and reloaded its pistol with its auxiliary arms. The left side of the crescent ship was blown off. The vacuum of space depressurized the vessel, crushing and crumpling the back as Beth screamed the loudest while holding her children. “Weeee don’t have too many options.” Rick managed to belt out as the ship calculated when to fire the lasers.    
  
Synm typed on the control console and turned around as Rick dialed its portal gun to the Nukaird Rehab Center. In his more neutral tone; Rick aimed the gun tucked between specified gaps of space. “Everything’ll be fine.” Fire began to engulf and encircle the crisp porcelain interior as the nanites fought to repel it. Two slime green portals appeared as the seats dropped everyone but Synm and Rick. Synm dove the ship bottle nose and performed a reversed spin while pulling up. Jerry was knocked into the second portal without a hitch. The nanites devoured the wall as a steel blast shield closed off the chunk of the ship that was burning.   
  
**_Pressurizing… Defense deactivated. Weapons remain online. Configuring Auto Pilot._**  
  
As they began to finally stabilize, Synm was panting and for the first time in a long time...it felt fear. Rick reached for his flask, staring blankly into the thin line of space and the planet. “Nice reversed Herbst maneuver, w-who’s hunting us now?” Synm’s hands were still trembling with the deepest exhale ever taken. “That was exhilarating!” Rick flexed his uni brow with curiosity, noticing the the thin tail wrapped around its waist. “I haven’t been this reckless in decades, this was a spectacular experience. Oh! The Proseguerist division is the royal guard searching for me. I guess they picked up a trail, since I keep returning to a singular point of interest.” Synm shrugged it off and went behind the seating to access the damages. It dialed the only being closest to what humans addressed as family. “Quook, it’s Synm. I need you to provide the Smith family with training and protection...No, don’t open fire around their feet to scare them you assholes. How’s my facility?” A mix between frustrated and mirthless chuckles came from it.   
  
Rick found his eyes wandering to the open screen as Synm occupied itself between the call and maintenance.   
  
He minimized and dragged the screen to his lap silently. “Yeah, and did you idiots restart the generators like I told you to? Of course not, and what do you mean he’s not there?!? You literally had one jo-oh…Fine. I’ll revise a plan, don’t worry about it.” Synm was holding up wires and tools as the quick mumbles over the receiver traveled through the ship. “Getting him out was the easy part, I’m about to cover Floshpin, just hack into the satellites.” A collective sigh came from the front of the ship. “ _WHAT?_ It was only a few weeks I was gone, you’re telling me the foundation is ready to collapse?! Give me the coordinates, hack the satellites, and tell me when our forces are ready. Ingratiate, coerce, intimidate them if you have too. Just don’t give them a reason to leave!” Synm hung up and rolled its eyes. Rick closed the screen, a mix of emotions painted his face. The crescent ship rang in a reminder.  
  
**_Prep for transmission. Warnings for no craft zones are being drafted._** ** _  
_****_  
_** “You have entered a forbidden airspace, identify yourself.” A weighted ominous chortle intruded the hologram as it scanned the ship. “Goddammit. Wonu, how did _you_ become a Proseguerist?” Synm instantly recognized the voice. It was a Nukaird, donned in Victorian era blazer with a neon flashing shirt. “Having family _ties_ does have it's advantages. You know the best thing about siding with the Zetras? The perks of hand picking your servers down to executing entire communities…You _should’ve joined us,_ but your bleeding heart resides in that shit hole Semontri-49. I see you’ve even brought us a present. Fugitive Sanchez.” Synm’s gills rumbled as Rick continued to ignore the ramblings. “You thought we wouldn’t find out about your “regime”? Your feeble monarchs are already captured.” An even heftier laugh exuded from the oddly dressed Nukaird. Synm rolled its fingers on the manual drive. “I’m disappointed in you Wonu, you’ve wasted your potential.” Rick looked up at the system satellite guide and flicked several switches. “Show time.” There was a hum, slowly building to assemble its destruction. “Arrogant fuck! You think you can wipe out an entire force with a simplistic cannon? You’ll be barred from this entire sector! Does the price of a principality mean so little now?” Rick and Synm merely glanced in mutual understanding.  
  
“It’s not a particle cannon, Memory Distortion Ray or MDR for short. This wipes the neurons connection from the synapses in your gamma waves. Forcing your consciousness into a vertigo leveled mix of retrograde and anterograde memory. Robbing you of everything you once were while rendering you incapable of grasping new concepts. Breaking you not only as being, but leaving you in a permanent state of infancy. Mindlessly dependent on the ones around you as you try to collect the floating inert remnants of meaning in your absence of sanity. The satellites are now under my control, as the sun rises a newer dawn might just be born to my whims. Your move Wonu.”   
  
Wonu paused, then thinned out his facial features. “You’re bluffing.”   
  
A smirk seemed to edge on Rick’s face while letting Synm take command. Its harness on situational awareness was uncanny. The ship provided a warning.  
  
**_Transmission Tracked, providing and locking onto the PIO Palace. Subbasement C._**  
  
Synm crossed its arms while spinning the tail as a whip. “Wanna bet?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop some comments and Kudos.  
> I'll do my best to be consistent although I don't like making promises I can't keep.  
> Happy Holidays, I'll be zonked out my mind - fingers crossed.


End file.
